


Undisclosed Desires

by cruelest_month



Category: Bleach
Genre: Alternate Canon, Community: polybigbang, Fights, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-19
Updated: 2012-02-19
Packaged: 2017-10-31 10:11:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/342857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Captain Ukitake finds himself focusing more on recovering in addition to possible truces and alliances than fights as he spends time alone with Stark. Kyouraku ultimately has his hands full waiting for his friend's safe return and assisting others while Zaraki forces his way back to Hueco Mundo from the fake Karakura Town battlefield.</p><p>However, as the Winter War seems to wind down, Aizen has a fair more sinister and less straightforward goal in mind. And it might just be that the differences between shinigami and arrancar are not so great as appearances might suggest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Having suffered greatly from a wide variety of complaints and most regularly from his own recurring illness throughout the course of his life, Ukitake was accustomed to waking up in pain. He was not, however, accustomed to having his chest run through by an arrancar with very little in terms of intelligence. Then again, Aizen wasn’t interested in any intelligence outside or in addition to his own. Wonderweiss’ value came from his raw power. 

Blinking his eyes several times, he decided the pain was more tolerable than he’d expected. In fact, it felt more like an ache than anything else. Surely he’d sustained considerable damage in spite of his age and strength. Weakly, he sought at the wound, confused to find his fingers resting on bandages when by all rights they should have been sticky from congealed blood. His outfit had changed too, but with sheets and blankets surrounding him, Ukitake couldn’t quite make the effort to see what it was. Not his haori and not his kimono. Not even his hakama. A yukata perhaps? 

Above him was a white ceiling instead of a sky, and underneath him was a mattress. It wasn’t comfortable, but it wasn’t horrible. 

How many hours or days had passed was hard to estimate. He didn’t know, but Ukitake certainly felt that the battle over the fake Karakura Town and the future of the Soul Society couldn’t have possibly ended already. Nor could the matter have been resolved in any neat fashion. Even if it was, Ukitake was fairly certain he wasn’t in Soul Society. For one thing, his zanpakutou was nowhere nearby. For another, the neat work on his bandages and the fact that the wound underneath them was healed over meant Unohana had looked after him herself. 

Then there was vaguely familiar reiatsu of the man entering the room to consider. Stark. 

“Good,” the Espada murmured before yawning. “You’re awake.”

Sitting up took some effort, but Ukitake managed it and he managed a few more blinks when he was handed a mug.

“Drink.”

“What’s—”

“Drink first. That Captain said you’d need it.”

“Poison?” The shingami asked, mostly because he felt obligated to be suspicious of the arranacar who had taken Shunsui out of the fight. He sincerely hoped his friend’s recovery had been more speedy than his own. 

“Water. And it would be a little stupid to be suspicious of me now, wouldn’t it? I could have left you in a puddle of your own blood if I wanted you dead.”

Which left the question of what did Stark want, but there were several more pressing concerns.

“Then this is…”

“My home, yes. The Lieutenant who attempted to see to your needs insisted he wasn’t up for the job, and that the better healers could be found here.”

“Why did you get involved?”

Stark’s lips twisted in what looked like a thoughtful grimace. “Hn. That’s right. You slept through some key fights.”

“And?” He found himself scooting further back on the mattress as the Primera sat on the end of it. Stark looked more amused by the action than anything else. 

“Let’s keep it simple. Let’s say I prefer the way your people treat your allies.”

“So you’re seeking to became one?”

“I’m in the process of doing so, I should think. First I brought you here then I brought several Captains there. And the rest of the motley crew stranded here. To that effect, that Inoue girl insisted I make sure you get better.”

Ukitake’s eyes widened and he found himself drinking a few more sips. There was no reason for this Espada to lie about such things. He didn’t seem to be the type although certainly other arrancars would have derived pleasure from such manipulations. 

His help must have been more than a little unexpected, and yet it must have come as something of a blessing. On one hand, Soul Society could hardly afford to turn away help, but on the other it would not last for much longer if its leaders did not put more stock on believing what could be gleaned from first experiences and appearances. In that respect, Ukitake felt that Stark wasn’t the worst arrancar he could be stuck with or forced to rely upon. Of all the warriors in Aizen’s sizable army, Stark had seemed the most uninterested in fighting and the only one who showed any reluctance in killing. 

And even Yama-ji would have to overlook a great deal for someone willing to use Gargantua for the purpose of aiding Soul Society against Sousuke Aizen. 

Stark looked both amused and pleased by the shinigami’s startled look. “I’m tempted to say she told me to give you a hug for her just to see your reaction to that. I hope you don’t faint when I say some people called Vaizards showed up.”

Ukitake looked surprised before rolling his eyes. “Is that even true?”

“It is. I’m sure you’ll see them soon.”

Ever since the arrival of Ichigo Kurosaki, the battles the shinigami engaged in seemed to grow more and more numerous and convoluted. And processing the rest of that information would have to wait, because Ukitake had one more question, and the more he knew about the others currently engaged in battle, the more he needed to be given an answer. “What of Shunsui Kyouraku? The shinigami you—”

Looking horribly inconvenienced and put out, Stark sighed wearily as if he’d had to explain himself several times already. In all likelihood, he must have had to so to be given so much trust and faith by shinigami who were nearly out of such luxuries. 

“I did not enjoy that. Such tactics are necessary and yet regrettable. But then such practices are fairly common place in wars and on battle grounds, as you well know.”

“I wasn’t placing blame. I just need to know…” He paused for a moment, taking a deep breath and continuing. “I want to know his current condition. If you’re my ally, you should tell me.”

Stark reached a hand out and patted Ukitake’s. “I see I’ve alarmed you, but you’ll be glad to know such concerns are unwarranted. Rest assured that I remember him very well beyond the injuries he sustained. Injuries he has begun to recover from, and swiftly too.”

Ukitake nodded, not trusting himself to say anything for a few seconds. Then he asked:  
“Does this bring me up to the present?”

“Just about.”

“You didn’t need to help me to be considered an ally.”

“Yeah? I don’t know about that. Lilinette said she wasn’t going to think well of me for leaving you where you were.”

Ukitake felt his mouth turn up into a small smile. She probably wanted to be the one to finish off herself someday, and in that case, the shinigami was likely to live for a very, very long time if not indefinitely. 

But returning his focus to his current conversation, the good-natured Captain found that he could only frown in consternation. “Touching as that is, more important things were… _are_ happening. I could have been healed there.”

Stark shrugged his shoulders before looking back over at Ukitake. “Maybe. Or maybe I personally didn’t think it was right to leave you there just because everyone else was okay with it.”

“Why?”

Stretching languidly and without any preamble whatsoever, Stark laid back on the bed. He did so while still leaving a considerable distance between them, but he didn’t seem troubled by the notion of sharing a bed with someone he’d been fighting earlier that day. “Look, if it’s all the same to you, I’d rather talk when you’re more up to the challenge.”

“I can… It’s not important that you let me recover here.” 

“I’m supposed to make you rest a bit more than bring you on through. They might need you again, but odds are they might not. You’ve helped out already.”

Sighing heavily, he sipped at the drink and leaned forward gingerly letting his hair fall over his face as he accepted this as fact. Ukitake knew from experience that battles were waged and won well enough by others while he stayed in bed. This, of course, stung mightily, but a shinigami could learn to live with slightly battered pride so long as his honor was not questioned or besmirched. A shinigami, he knew, could live through more things than a shinigami often wished to. And Ukitake didn’t have to like it for it to make sense.

A gloved hand smoothed back some of his hair, and Ukitake glanced down at Stark who had apparently wormed his way further up the bed while the Captain had allowed himself to teeter on the brink of wallowing in self-pity. 

“Hey. No one could think less of you from needing some time to recover from the chest wound you got.” 

Having the hand of an Espada so far in his personal space ought to have upset him, but Ukitake found that he might not have minded so much if the hand hadn’t been covered by cloth. Whether this was because he’d once again come close to a final death or because Stark bore such a strange resemblance to Shunsui was hard to say.

“You’re not like me,” the arrancar added.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m no good at fighting for long stretches of time,” Stark pointed out with a thin smirk “I’m useless after awhile if I don’t take a nap.”

Ukitake snorted. “Is that so?”

“Very much so. And the exact opposite’s true for Lilinette.”

“That must be frustrating.”

“Nah, more like annoying and inconvenient.”

“Hm.”

Smirking again in a lazy feline fashion, Stark moved further up the bed until he was propping an elbow on one of the pillows next to Ukitake. “Anyway, hear me out. Maybe this whole rest thing will take longer than you’d like, but I for one could use it.” 

Laughing, the Captain shook his head. “Are you suggesting that in order to make myself feel better, I should blame the extended delay on you instead of my body? I don’t know about that.”

“I don’t mind much. So. Sound fair to you, shinigami?”

“Jyuushirou.”

“Jyuushirou,” Stark repeated slowly in a way that would have made Ukitake blush if he’d been a few centuries younger. Instead he simply smiled. “I like that. And for the record I think your body’s just fine.”

“One would think that a closer examination would be in order for someone to reach that conclusion.”

Stark chuckled and rolled onto his side facing away from him. If he’d known him better or for longer, the Captain would have been half-tempted to pull on his shoulder until he rolled in the opposite direction. “That’s because you think I just dumped you on that one Captain and left while she took care of you. What a naïve ex-enemy you are, shinigami.”

“Jyuushirou.”

At that, the Espada did move over until they were facing one another. “Believe me, Jyuushirou. The last thing I plan on doing is forgetting your name.”

 

*

 

Ise kept alternating between looking after him, and lecturing him as he walked around. Kyouraku had never been the type to sit still for long unlike Jyuushirou who could sit still for hours. _Jyuushirou…_ Well, if he possessed any common sense at all, he was hopefully sitting very still and resting. 

“With all due respect, I told you all that chasing tail was going to come back and haunt you in the end. Maybe if you’d focused more on him, he wouldn’t be in Hueco Mundo.” Ah. Fifteen minutes of pampering seemed to be up once again. 

Truth be told, the Eighth Division Captain couldn’t even bring himself to mind. If asked, he would have gestured all around them. He would have insisted that too much fighting was going on, and too many old familiar faces were showing up for him to pay much attention to the established routine between them. Just as Kyouraku would have blamed all of the tightness in his chest on the cero wounds he’d suffered.

“Maa, Nanao-chan,” he muttered, stopping only when he found his kimono. It wasn’t fit to wear thanks to his wounds and more than likely Ukitake’s as well, but unlike his friend, the garment was immediately retrievable. His straw hat on the other hand… Where on earth had that wandered off to?

“…Are you even listening to me?”

“No.” Kyouraku delighted in tormenting her with honesty. “I’ve lost track. Are you talking about Lisa or Jyuushirou now?”

“ _We_ ought to be discussing Captain Ukitake.” Ise had yet to express her thoughts on seeing former lieutenant Yadomaru. If decades of experience were to be trusted, she was unlikely to be forthcoming with said sentiments any time soon. “I’m talking about your friend being missing in action.”

“My dearest friend is missing _the_ action, but he is not missing. He can’t be missing. I haven’t misplaced him. Nor has anyone else.”

“Aren’t you concerned?”

“I was concerned, but he’s on the mend now. Retsu has said as much. If you’re done playing nursemaid, you could fight, you know. Relieve one of those poor, helpless girls fighting that Haribel, why don’t you?”

Ise frowned. “You can barely walk in a straight line. Of course I’m not much of a nursemaid since that isn’t my job, but I can’t possibly do better than those well-trained shinigami you so foolishly dismiss as ‘poor, helpless girls.’ One of them is Rukia Kuchiki, by the way.”

“Is that so? Oh dear. My dearest friend would be most displeased to hear of me dismissing her so readily.”

“Indeed.”

“Regardless, while I do appreciate your concerns, and while I am not one to second guess Jyuushirou’s abilities… I cannot think of a good reason why an Espada would use garganta to assist us simply to have some time alone with him.”

“… _You_ can’t think of one?”

Kyouraku blinked, inwardly thinking he would need to have to speak to this Stark privately once the other Captain returned. But for the most part he proceeded to cast admiring looks at his lieutenant and congratulate himself on doing such a remarkable job on corrupting her. “My, my. What a dirty mind you have, Nanao-chan.”

She scowled before taking her glasses off to clean them. Kindly, her Captain decided not to point out her blushing or how flawless the lenses had been up to that moment. 

Instead, Kyouraku made an effort to fill the silence. “Just because that’s the first thing I would do if I mastered garganta doesn’t mean that everyone else would use it simply for the pleasures of ravishing a very attractive shinigami.”

“Hn. Well, yes, it would be a bit far-fetched. However, it could be one of the reasons for all we know.”

“For all we know, our beloved Captain is seducing him right now as he makes a speedy recovery.”

Ise put her glasses back on. “I hardly think—”

“I call him Casanova for a reason,” he interrupted, giving her a wink.

She stood there no doubt silently seething while he walked further, wincing a little at the blood he found not too far from where he’d located his hat. It was only to be expected, but he didn’t like it. He wanted to make it disappear somehow. To wave it out of existence with one hand the way Ukitake had deflected that arrancar girl’s cero with one flick of his wrist.

Kyouraku had never liked all of the blood that came with knowing Jyuushirou. He had grown accustomed and accepting of the illness his friend and lover suffered from seeing as there was no danger of losing Ukitake forever to said disease or a happy chance of locating a cure. He loved him a great deal. More than he loved most people certainly. And more honestly. 

“Don’t think of me as heartless or purposefully flippant when it comes to this, Nanao-chan,” he murmured without looking up or over at his lieutenant. “I would like him to return. Of course I would. But not if that means him bleeding here again. Once was enough.”

“After what happened you think this Stark guy can be charged to look after his well being?”

Ironically Kyouraku imagined that having someone new looking after him might be a benefit for Ukitake. Someone who wasn’t tired or desensitized or used to it would be refreshing if nothing else. 

“I choose to trust him.” 

“All right. Assuming I believe that to be the case… Why would you trust him?”

“Maa, Nanao-chan. Lacking as I am in the ability to ravish our fair Captain at any given notice via garganta, I have no other choice.” 

“And?”

“And to dwell on my suspicions or yours would only serve to upset you and me. That would hardly accomplish much.”

“At the moment.”

“At the moment,” he agreed, glancing up at the heavens where fighting continued. Vaizards who were once former captains were being joined by the Captains who had been so successfully left out of too much of the fight. The other Captains were recovering, having been left in the same shape as he was. If not worse. 

“Besides,” Kyouraku continued, “I might need to fight again soon and so now is not the time. When and if that changes, I know I can count on you to—”

“Of course you can,” she snapped, hitting him lightly on the shoulder before marching past him. “Really. That much ought to go without saying.”


	2. Chapter 2

“The fuck if he’s staying here with you.”

Ukitake grimaced as he eased out of sleep and worked to assess the situation with his eyes closed. He must have been badly injured to have managed to ignore this for as long as he had. The air around him was all but smothered by warring reiatsu.

Three of them, he noted. One very familiar because it was Kenpachi Zaraki. One vaguely familiar because he’d shared a bed with Stark. And the other… He couldn’t tell who it was, only that it was similar in some rudimentary and primal way to Stark’s. They were a similar sort of creature then, but this couldn’t have been Lilinette. Her spiritual force wasn’t this dense or deadly. 

“Did I ask you to bring him back here?”

“If we’re switching sides, we’re switching sides, Primera.” The third voice was about as respectful of rank as the first voice was.

Zaraki’s snort was as derisive and amused as usual. “That so? Well, we still need all thirteen of our Captains. Ain’t no reason for either one of you to be coddling one of the oldest.”

Ukitake might have feigned sleep for a bit longer, but Zaraki’s remark wasn’t accurate so much as it was insulting. He wasn’t in the mood for anyone in their right mind to think he was being coddled. 

“I will happily go back,” he murmured as he got to a sitting position and opened his eyes. 

“Doesn’t look like much,” a very blue and very battered arrancar mumbled. He was a bloody mess, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or perhaps there were more similarities than one between this second hollow and Zaraki, and the creature simply liked it that way. 

“That’s funny,” Ukitake added, gingerly rising to his feet. He was perfectly capable of not showing his relief as he worked to find his balance. Stark was standing near to him, but thankfully made no move to aid him in his task. Espada with ulterior motives or not, Ukitake would have hated to repay his kindness with a shove. “Neither do you.”

Zaraki barked out a laugh. But even after he lowered his eye patch, the Captain remained where he was leaning in the generous doorframe of the room itself. 

Stark smirked faintly as he glanced over at the other arrancar. 

The other arrancar just rolled his eyes. “Pretty’s useless around here.”

“Just because he’d win first place in a beauty contest against the three of us don’t make him useless,” Zaraki pointed out. “You good?”

Ukitake signed feeling every year of his age as he considered the Captain of the Eleventh Division’s question. “I suppose.” He looked back over at the startlingly blue arrancar. “Do you have a name?”

“Grimmjow. Sexta Espada. Or was. Kinda pointless now when most of them are dead, ne?”

“Rank can still be of value, but I do see your point,” Ukitake politely replied, which seemed to surprise the other man. Well, there was no need to be rude, and he could hardly come to any conclusions about a stranger he’d only just met. “You fought with us or against us earlier today?”

“I doubt it was today. And it wasn’t for or with anyone.”

“He fought Kurosaki,” Zaraki helpfully supplied in a wistful tone. 

“And Nnoitra Jiruga.”

“I was getting there,” Zaraki snapped. “Wasn’t about to forget him now was I?”

If the headache Ukitake was getting was any indication, the three of them were getting along about as well as one might have wished for considering the Captain’s abrasive tendencies. Perhaps if any alliances were to be cemented, Grimmjow would be assigned to his squad. 

“All of this can be explained to me later,” he decided. “Where do you need me to go?”

“Same place we’re going. Back to it. Although I reckon most of it is over with.”

“Why did they send you?” Ukitake asked, realizing the question might have seemed rude, but Zaraki’s laughter meant he understood what he meant. It seemed like poor planning to send a powerful force to be reckoned with back into Hueco Mundo.

“Because I can be sent on my own, and my condition ain’t no where close to critical.”

“I can bring him along after I locate Lilinette.”

“Do that now then. We’ll wait.”

“Even though she’s with your lieutenant?”

“Damn straight. You better hurry before my lieutenant puts her to work coloring pictures of unicorns then.”

Stark frowned at Zaraki, but seemed to realize that arguing wasn’t prudent. And when he left , he left with Grimmjow dogging his footsteps. Even from a distance away, the Sexta could be heard cursing and laughing. If Stark said anything in reply, his low murmurs didn’t carry back. 

The Captain waited a moment before moving over. “Lemme look at you,” he murmured, closing the distance between them and staring down at the older Captain before lightly taking his wrist and turning him slightly to the right. 

“Damn there’s a lot to look at. What the hell’s this? A yukata made of rice paper?” Zaraki was leering, but it was something Ukitake had grown accustomed to. It only made him blush faintly if he considered the many ridiculous differences between them.

Refusing to do so, Ukitake settled for chuckling wearily. “Stop it.”

Zaraki pulled away after raking large fingers through Ukitake’s hair and petting his cheek. He wandered over to the sliding doors of a small closet and slamming them open. “We ought to find you something else. Any more people start pawing at ya, and you’ll have yourself a harem.”

“At best I have two men.”

“At worst?”

“I… At worst, I suppose I vaguely have two men.”

“You definitely have me. In a vague way.”

“What a relief,” Ukitake teased.

Flashing a somewhat manic grin over his shoulder, the other Captain threw some white clothes at him. “Everything’s black and white ‘round here. Damn place makes me think I’m color blind.”

Not bothering with false modesty, Ukitake removed the obi belt from around his waist and changed. “You’re a man who enjoys his gray areas?”

“I enjoy certain areas, that’s for sure.”

“Hm.”

“When this is over I was hoping we could… you know. Do what we do.”

Ukitake’s lips curved up into a sly smirk, and he briefly was amused by Zaraki’s hungry reaction to it. “Fuck?”

Zaraki barked out a laugh, looking pleased and slightly startled. “Yeah. I was trying to think of a nice word for it. You like nice words.”

“I like ‘em rough around the edges too,” the older Captain promised.

“You like that Stark guy? I think he’s mooning over you worse than Kyouraku.”

“Shunsui doesn’t moon,” Ukitake pointed out. Now that he was finished with the white hakuma, he slipped on the jacket. It must have been an extra uniform of Stark’s but it fit him well enough. Zaraki’s open eye was trained on him and, while making an effort to ignore his intense scrutiny, Ukitake adjusted his collar while waiting for Zaraki to say what was on his mind. 

Scowling, the shinigami rummaged around for a sash. Holding it out to Ukitake, he shook his head. "You look like his pet now."

"We wear white too."

"Not like this we don't," he grumbled, tugging Ukitake towards him with the belt. Without any additional preamble, Zaraki roughly claimed his lips. "Bastard shoulda kept your clothes."

Reaching up, Ukitake patted his cheek once the kiss was over. "Now, now,” he soothed, pulling the strip of fabric out of Zaraki’s grip. The jacket didn’t seem willing to stay completely closed on it’s own. “I imagine he felt that he was doing me a favor by disposing of them before I woke up again."

"Favor, my ass. Undressing you with his eyes is one thing, and who could blame him?" Ukitake assumed this was both a compliment and a personal observation about the arrancar Stark would have had to choose from. "But the fucker's seen as much of you as I have. Probably groped you too."

"I hardly think that seeing me naked or molesting me was a priority when I was bleeding all over the place," was the only wry reply Ukitake could think of. "And all over him."

Zaraki inhaled sharply before shaking his head with the same ferocity. "Fucking Kurosaki. I miss out on all the fun."

"If it's any consolation, I don't recall much of what happened."

The distance between them wasn't very great, but it seemed to shrink down into nothingness. Zaraki was smirking now, of course, but a second before that, his eyebrow had been twitching. "You're just asking for it."

"Asking for what?"

Zaraki continued smirking in typical predatory fashion as he pushed fabric out of his way, biting with sharp canines into the smooth skin he found lurking directly beneath it. The somewhat startled groan that made up the bulk of Ukitake's reaction would have probably surprised several of the other Captains and scandalized both of his Third Seats.

"That. And more besides, seems like," he grumbled before licking and sucking at the mark he'd left behind.

Ukitake sighed happily before managing a short chuckle, tilting his neck encouragingly before tugging Zaraki's hands onto his skin as well. "Only seems like?"

"Fuck. Look at you. If it didn't mean missing out on getting to beating the shit out of Aizen with everyone else, I'd say we should barricade the door and make your boy toy baby-sit."

"Mm," Ukitake mused, appreciative of the thought if not Zaraki's timing or derogatory remarks in regards to the currently absent Espada. "I'm also recovering from a critical injury."

He toyed with the edge of the bandages before moving back a bit and fixing the collar of Ukitake's current outfit. "Hell, that wasn't much of anything. Ya got a scratch." Ukitake eyed him thoughtfully. "Yare, yare. A big ole scratch. If it makes you feel better."

"I'm glad you weren't concerned for my well being."

"If that was all it took to kill ya, I'd have to rethink a bunch of things."

"Mostly your technique, I should think."

"When I fight with you, I'm not fighting for keeps."

"I don't mind."

"Yeah, well... You probably should eat something," Zaraki murmured, as he looked around the room. He wasn't big on talking about things that involved his being nice or admitting to others that fighting wasn't all he cared about even if he did care about fighting more than anything else. While looking for distractions, his eyes lit upon the tray Jyuushirou had been content to ignore. Before the older Captain could say anything, Zaraki was shoving a bowl of rice and cooked vegetables in his face.

"If you insist." Cold was a step up from stale, and food wasn't something he ate for any other reason than expending spiritual energy on a regular basis took a decent amount out of a shinigami. And at least feeding him wouldn't take as long as say preparing a meal for the head of Division Eleven.

Zaraki didn't bother monitoring the situation, which was good of him. Ukitake imagined that even after the resolution of the on-going battle a lot of well-meaning cooing and clutching awaited him. 

"Speaking of techniques," Ukitake began when he was halfway finished with his meal. The cold rice and vegetables would have been better if there was any tea to be had. "Where is my zanpakutou?"

"Should be with Retsu."

He nodded. "Good."

"Decent place for it, I guess, but it should have come here with you."

He nodded again and Zaraki snorted before stalking over to him, forcing his eyes upwards by grabbing at his chin. "Hey. As soon as we get back, she'll hand it to you."

Ukitake blinked a little before smiling a bit as Zaraki forcefully ruffled his hair and moved away again. The somewhat feral Captain's attempts at comforting were always amusingly touching if occasionally hard on the poor soul receiving that bit of rough comfort. "Thank you. I'm sure she will. Regardless, we should probably join the others. Assuming there's others left to join outside of "

"Ya don't think she'll listen, huh?"

The only people Yachiru tended to listen to were Zaraki and people bribing her. "It's doubtful. I don't think she's going to like that you're not with them either." But no loud cries of pain seemed to be coming from outside of the room so she couldn't have bitten anyone's hand or ear off yet.

"Best to avoid them getting maimed, I guess. Seeing as we're friends and all." Zaraki said the word 'friends' as though it caused him physical pain to do so, but then he probably preferred having as many enemies as possible.

"Why is she with you here anyway?"

"Kid's a thorn in my side. Plus she's worried about you."

"That's sweet of her."

"Sweet? She's a lot of things. Altruistic ain't one of them. Where else is she gonna get candy from if you kick it? No one in my Division's thick enough to hook her up with any sugar."

Ukitake smiled and shrugged as they walked down one long corridor after another. He could imagine why Stark and even that Grimmjow weren't too upset about the idea of relocating. Outside, there was no sun or much of anything apart of slowly shifting desert sands.

"By then, she's long gone. What she does with candy or after consuming it beyond my control," he observed. The older Captain had never really witnessed what happened after he generously offered up candy to the Eleventh Division’s lieutenant first hand, but he'd received plenty of glares from both Eleventh Division’s Third and Fifth Seat for reasons that were probably directly related to said distribution. The bite marks on Madarame's head could only be interpreted pretty good indication of Yachiru having had too much sugar. Either that or he had a pet shark.

Swinging his zanpakutou over his shoulder casually, Zaraki eyed Ukitake with interest. "Here you are feeding some kid's habit, and everyone keeps on thinking you're this nice, sickly wet blanket."

Ukitake smirked up at him. "That isn't the case?"

"Fuck no. You're dangerous."

"I'd never encourage her to harass you."

"What would be the point? Ain't no sense setting a burning house on fire now is there?"

 

*

 

“All this talk about my better half has distracted me from the real task at hand.”

Ise snorted. “Which would be?”

“My straw hat is missing.”

“Hn.”

“My hair pins as well.”

“And this is cause for alarm rather than celebration?”

His lips twisted downwards as he eyed his second in command. “Nanao-chan. The ladies love it.”

She rolled her eyes heavenward before glancing back at the battlefield and frowning. This in of itself was nothing remarkable, but Kyouraku could tell she was focused on someone else. 

Not just any someone else either. Gin Ichimaru grinning like a demented fox as he blocked a round of blows from his former lieutenant. It was fortunate indeed that the wounded shinigami had been moved several hours ago to a more remote location. 

While he knew how Ukitake would approach the situation, Kyouraku couldn’t imagine standing there and watching current lieutenant Kira attempt to deal with him on his own. 

It was true that Kira was not exactly a match for a Captain let alone a psychotic one, but the fact that he had been doing an admiral job of fighting on a consistent basis as well as healing couldn’t be overlooked. Therefore, one could only conclude that his stamina, at least, far exceeded that of most shinigami, which only served to make Kira’s previous role as Ichimaru’s second that much sadder. To have so much tolerance and to be forced to tolerate so much… How depressing. Kyouraku made a mental note to see if the boy was at least having a less gloomy time of it without the fox-faced bastard having a regular cameo in the story of his life. 

On the other hand, Ichimaru hardly seemed eager to do permanent damage of any sort outside of mental. Perhaps unsurprising since he had sided with man capable of a great deal of damage and mindfuckery all on his own. Kyouraku had rarely paid enough attention to the Third Division’s Captain so his fighting style was relatively baffling and somewhat insulting to the poor shinigami facing off against him.

He blocked blows and put Shinsou to good use only when it seemed obvious that Kira would dodge or block said attacks with his Kidou. He was laughing, and while the sound might have been familiar, it was clear that his lieutenant was not only having a miserable time of it, but also somewhat spooked. 

“Well, he never was particularly subtle.” What with the fact that you never saw his eyes and that he was always smiling that repulsive baby-eating smile of his. 

“He has your hat.”

“He does, and I highly doubt Lieutenant Kira will understand the value of it.”

“You’re still recovering.”

“A fair point. But he has my hat.”

“I could intercede.”

“That is one possibility.”

“Then let me.” She moved forward, reaching up into the folds of her sleeve. “My Kidou is better than either one of theirs.”

This was a fact that could not be debated and yet… “Would you feel slighted if I asked you to let me handle this and asked you to find another fight?”

Ise stilled. Her hand moved away and the neutral look she gave him which might have put a lesser shinigami at ease, but knowing her one knew that it only meant he needed to proceed with caution. “It would depend upon your reasoning.”

“He’s wearing my hat.” If she’d been hoping he would say he needed the fight to distract him from thinking too much about any serious issues that had yet to resolve themselves, Ise was going to be hoping for a long time to come.

She studied him carefully before nodding. “But I will find other fights.”

“There’s plenty to choose from.”

“And I will win them.”

“As always I’m glad to have you on my side,” he assured her. 

With another nod, Nanao flash-stepped away.

Flash-stepping over to the former Captain and current Lieutenant of the Third Division, Kyouraku caught part of their conversation. 

“Ya disappoint me, Izuru. Only a little, mind. Always knew you had a soft spot for me.”

Kira brought Wabisuke up and flash-stepped away. “Scattered bones of beasts, tone of clanging spears--” He winced as Shinsou went through his shoulder.

“I don’t really like that one, but I sure appreciate all the effort you’re going to. Welcoming me home with lightning cannons… Sweet gesture.”

“Who said anything about welcoming you home?”

After deflecting another heavy and far more menacing than previously executed swing of Kira’s zanpakutou, Ichimaru looked over his shoulder and chuckled. 

“Oops, Izuru. Hold that thought, will ya? We got company,” Ichimaru drawled, sick smile still spread out over his features. The introduction a new powerful reiatsu seemed to confuse Kira, and while he was blocking a sharp thrust of Ichimaru’s zanpakutou, the former Captain grabbed his wrist. 

“Ta what do we owe the pleasure, Cap’n?” he added purposefully making his accent that much more apparent. Kira seemed fixated on the L-shaped curve of his blade as if he couldn’t remember what to do with it.

Shaking his head, Kyouraku began the process of preparing his zanpakutou.. “You fight the same way you live. Without honor.”

Ichimaru proceeded to pout. “Naa, that’s not very nice.”

Nice or not, the statement seemed to help Kira further his resolve. He seemed to be taking a quiet deep breath in, and steeling himself to do what had to be done.

“It’s accurate. Watching you is making my stomach churn. And then there’s my hat to consider.”

As if only now remembering that the straw hat was on his head, Ichimaru smiled rakishly and tilted the brim. “Well now. Might be a matter of opinion, but I kinda think it suits me.”

“Take it off and let him go.”

“Sou-ka. Far be it for me to argue with an old man.” He offered up a lazy salute with Shinsou and there was a sickening snap as he broke his Lieutenant’s wrist. Wabisuke fell and Kira stifled a gasp. 

“Naa, Izuru,” Ichimaru murmured, rubbing his long fingers over Kira’s skin and the broken bone underneath it. “Ya gotta work on stealth.”

Before Kyouraku could begin his Shikai, Kira punched his former Captain in the face with… Well, quite frankly a greater show of force or initiative than either Captain probably would have given him credit for. 

And although he himself was wincing at the speed of the hit, Ichimaru spat up a decent amount of blood and laughed as he shoved Kira away. “There ya go. That’s a start, but ya gotta hate me to get stronger. Ya ain’t never gonna kill me if you don’t put your heart into it, Izuru.”

“Heads up, asshole," another voice called out. "Reap, Kazeshini.” 

Kyouraku sighed, watching Hisagi's whirling sickle blades make short work of his hat as Ichimaru disappeared from view. He was starting to wonder why he’d even bothered coming over. 

Hisagi joined them. They all looked around like drowning tourists keeping an eye out for sharks until it became obvious Gin Ichimaru had moved on to find someone else to play with. Or pick on, fox-faced bully that he was. 

Kira’s downcast eyes considered both the Captain and the other Lieutenant. “Thank you.”

 _For what_? “Now, now. Let’s not waste a perfectly good display of gratitude on account of me standing here,” he suggested with a cheerfulness that wasn’t entirely forced. 

Kyouraku had a feeling Ukitake would have been more solemn and more understanding. More… Whatever it was that this boy needed. Kyouraku didn’t want to have someone else to look after. He wasn’t sure if that made him much better than Ichimaru in some respects.

The Lieutenant wasn’t much for smiling, but he did nod in a serene enough fashion before cradling his injured hand. 

“I can find Wabisuke for you. For now, let’s see your wrist,” Hisagi suggested, making no effort to acknowledge the Captain standing to his right. He seemed somewhat embarrassed to be there, and unsure how to proceed as far as Kira was concerned. Well, that made two of them. 

“It will mend. So will my shoulder. Until then the wounds will remind me of my failure here today,” Kira murmured. An interesting sentiment that might have seemed noble if not for the fact that the tone was hardly zen-like. If anything, it was remarkably self-deprecating. 

“I sort of doubt anything that happens here today will remind us of success, Kira,” his sempai corrected, looking a little pained to be at a loss for comforting phrases. But they were all running on very little energy and sleep. Sympathetic statements would have to wait. 

“Hn. Shouldn’t you be handling Tousen?”

Hisagi shook his head. “He’s headed back to Hueco Mundo.” The grimace that followed this echoed Kyouraku’s and Kira’s. They had all known this wasn’t the end or anything remotely similar to it, but it was still disheartening to know that nothing would be decided or ended once this battle was completely over with. And both Lieutenants could have desperately used something in the way of a resolution.

“I’m not worth his time, and there’s justice to give out somewhere else. Apparently one of the Espada is helping us now?”

“Stark,” Kyouraku supplied. At last, a decent reason to explain his continued eaves-dropping. They were just far more interesting than the prospect of another fight. All the same, he was probably interfering with their… Whatever it was. “Get your wrist seen to, Kira.”

The order, at least, seemed to help the Lieutenant. He was used to those, no doubt. “I will.”

“I’ll get your zanpakutou if that is acceptable to you.”

“I… Thank you.”

“No more of that,” he said, waving a hand dismissively. “And, Hisagi, I think Captain Unohana is coming over here to speak to you.”

Hisagi cursed under his breath, but allowed Kira to drag him in that direction with his good hand. Well, at least they seemed to have each other. They’d recover from this. Slower than Kira’s wrist, but whether they believed it or not, their Captains would only define them for so much longer. And then one day they’d be Captains too.. 

Kyouraku found that watching them made him feel old and tired and depressed. Everything had a time and a season. All cycles repeated themselves eventually. And then, of course, there was still his hat to consider.


	3. Chapter 3

Stark was the first person to roll into view. Next was Grimmjow who didn’t seem to want to be too close to anyone if his grimace was anything to go by. Over to the left of both arrancar and sitting on a large boulder, was Third Seat Ikkaku who looked like he’d seen better days. His gaze kept lighting on one person after another although his eyes seemed to gravitate more towards Yachiru than anything else. The girls -- Whether they were children or not was difficult to ascertain, but Ukitake was content to think of both Yachiru and Lilinette as little girls -- were squabbling over something, and some small bodies seemed to litter the landscape. Animals or small hollows. It was hard to say. 

And they were, of course, not what drew his attention. The Captain of the Thirteenth Division was more interested in both of the arrancar standing there. They looked bored with each other, the scene playing out before them, and everything else as well.

Just why Grimmjow was standing next to another albeit higher-ranking Espada was an enigma. Loyalty or a sense of camaraderie was not very likely to be a motivating factor. Which brought many other questions to mind such as what was motivating Stark and what sort of answer to that question would satisfy Ukitake or the rest of Soul Society? 

Ukitake was as capable as any other shinigami when it came to assessing and recognizing his own abilities and limits. He was a skilled fighter. He was a good gardener. He was fair and open-minded, but practical and focused on honor. He had heard from others or deduced via other means that he was considered to be attractive and far more so than most of the other Captains. But he would have scarcely expected many of those qualities he possessed to be a sufficient reason to abandon what many would have considered to a relatively important cause. 

And if it was, what did that say about Stark or his priorities?

Was the Primera concerned about what might become of him or any other surviving Espada? Was he indifferent instead or merely cautious enough to maintain the sort of pessimistic fatalism that working with Aizen must have required? Or, like so many of his brother- and sister-creatures, was Stark simply propelled forward by baser instincts?

Ukitake sighed heavily, which caused the other Captain to stop walking. “Can you go back first?” he asked, deciding that the only way to probably get anywhere was to make Stark talk to him without an audience. The first time, at least.

Zaraki looked over at him skeptically. “And this doesn’t waste my time or yours because…?”

“Because I want to talk to him. Alone.”

“That girl won’t go without him.”

“I know that. She is him.”

“The fuck?”

“Technically. It’s complicated.”

Zaraki waved a hand. He wasn’t big on dealing with anything that wasn’t straightforward in some way or directly related to the two of them. The latter was something he’d had to compromise on years ago, and he still didn’t like it all that much. “Spare me the details.”

“I will.”

“But you want me to leave.”

Smiling warmly, Ukitake patted Zaraki’s arm. “As you so shrewdly observed, I’m wasting enough of my own time.”

“I told you about that, didn’t I?”

The patting turned into gentle petting as Ukitake leaned up and kissed his cheek. There was a small choking sound coming from the direction of Ikkaku’s boulder. “Hm? You told me about how you like to waste my time?”

Zaraki ground his sharp teeth, putting his arms on Ukitake’s shoulder and almost shoving him before glancing over at Stark. Then he decided against it, which was somewhat disappointing. “About being mushy around my men.”

“Men? Only two people from your Division are here, and only one of them is male.”

“Whatever.”

Chuckling as he considered Ikkaku’s confused face, Ukitake wrapped his arms around the taller Captain’s neck and nuzzled at Zaraki’s shoulder. “Will you leave then?”

“Shit, don’t do that!” 

Releasing his gentle grip, the older Captain smirked. “You know you love it.”

“I know it’s embarrassing as fuck!”

“So leave.”

“Yeah, but if I have to come back, I’m showing that Stark guy just how busy you already are when it comes to sex.”

“And relationships,” Ukitake sternly added. “Give me a kiss and then make yourself scarce, ne?”

“Yeah, yeah. Bastard,” Zaraki murmured, but his tone was amused and appreciative. They kissed and then he did shove Ukitake slightly as he stalked past him. “Ikkaku, get your lazy ass over here.” 

Thrilled by the return to normalcy, the Third Seat offered up the sloppiest of salutes as he came jogging over to them. “Right. Sorry, Captain.”

“Shut up,” Zaraki growled, shoving Ikkaku forward. “Yachiru, get over here. Say goodbye. We’re going back.”

A blurry pink thing zoomed over to Ukitake at an ever-increasing speed, but he was able to snatch Yachiru up before she could throw herself at him, and therefore, directly at his injuries. She had a gift for finding them, and at the moment he wasn’t sure he was quite up for her accidentally clutching or kicking at his bandages. 

Snuggling up to him happily, she grinned up and looked expectant. “Candy later?”

“Later,” he agreed.

“You better not die before then,” she cautioned before squirming and holding her little hands out to Zaraki. “Promise.”

“I promise I won’t die before you get enough candy to satisfy you.”

“That’s never,” she said solemnly. “So get better.”

He nodded in similar fashion, as charmed by her as ever. “Of course.”

She wiggled her fingers until Zaraki scooped her up. She climbed over him until she got to his back, and then she waved from her spot on his shoulder. “Bye then! Ken-chan will miss you.”

 _Ken-chan_ , on the hand, rolled his eyes and smacked Ikkaku upside the head as he stalked forward. “Let’s get this freak show on the road, for fuck’s sake…”

Grimmjow and Stark, who had only recently been joined by a sulky Lilinette, warily watched the Captain approach them, but eventually they relaxed their stances and nodded a bit. They exchanged a few calm words before Stark ambled over to Ukitake. 

Lilinette kicked at the sand and Stark’s heels as he passed her. She shouted something, but the wind muffled it. The remaining shinigami imagined he wasn’t meant to hear it anyway. 

Even after the others left, Lilinette didn’t follow him over.

“Is everything all right?”

“We fight a lot,” Stark offered up as explanation.

“But everything is…”

“It’s fine. That other Captain said you had to tell me something important.”

Ukitake sighed. “No, it’s… Well, maybe it is important, but it’s not something I need to tell you.”

“I know you’re seeing that other one. And your friend back on the other side.”

“Sort of obvious, huh?”

Stark nodded, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Why are you helping us?”

The Espada’s brow furrowed, and Ukitake found that he liked Stark having some reaction outside of weary acceptance or indifference. “We’ve discussed this. I thought you understood.”

“I do to some degree, but why help me? Why make this your problem?”

“Where else are we going to go?” Stark was including Lilinette in this whether she wanted to be or not. The Captain liked that too. 

“That’s a very good question.”

“Will you be this suspicious of the Vaizards?”

“To be honest, I don’t know what we’ll do.”

“I don’t care about the rest of them,” Stark grumbled. “I want to know what you’ll do.”

“I don’t… It’s hard to say.”

“Pretend it’s easy.”

“It’s not easy,” Ukitake began, holding up a hand to prevent himself from being interrupted or badgered further. “And yet I’m tired of suspecting everyone of something and realizing I’m wrong about them.”

“Sometimes you’re not.”

“That’s true, which is why…” Ukitake took a deep breath. “I can’t afford to trust Aizen. No one I’m allied with can. So I don’t know how to trust you. You attacked us.”

“I was provoked.”

“You’re provoking me right now.”

“And you’re taking it rather well,” Stark complimented.

Ukitake’s lips curved into a rueful smile.

Stark yawned and looked away. “There’s such a big picture for you guys. Aizen too. He’s always plotting and always thinking. He’s always picking at things. He’s so focused on this big, big world he wants to make.”

“And for you?”

“I just want to take some naps without these fights interrupting them.”

“Which you can do with us?”

“No. With you… I could go places if I worked with you. If you… If they allow me to live.”

Ukitake frowned, wondering why Stark would want to take such a big gamble. For his own sake? For Lilinette’s? But then perhaps it shouldn’t have been so surprising that even hollows wouldn’t want to live in a world of Aizen’s making. This Hueco Mundo had been here long before Aizen. The world felt old even if Stark, Grimmjow, and the other Espada felt brand-new.

“We can’t go anywhere,” Stark continued. “Unless he lets us. Even before he was here, we were limited. This is our world. We don’t leave.” 

“But you’ve moved up in terms of—”

Stark shrugged, still looking away. “We can advance in rank. We can become the most important thing here, but traveling? Having long-term goals? Having any of the things you people have all the time… That doesn’t work out here.”

“Why?”

“We die.”

“We die—”

“Not as quickly. Not the way we do.”

“What way is that?”

“Alone.”

Ukitake found himself thinking of Kaien. His Lieutenant hadn’t died alone but whenever he thought of death, he thought about that rainy, bloody moment in time. He thought about how the only fact relating to the loss that comforted him was that Kaien hadn’t been alone. 

“So you are trying to make me a long-term goal?” he quietly asked.

Stark snorted. “No. You’d be a nice perk though. I think you’re strong and flawed. I like that.”

“…I see.”

Quietly, Stark added: “I’d like to have someone who would miss me if I died. I don’t want to be like the others.”

“Surely the rest of you—”

The Espada’s grey eyes narrowed. “I couldn’t fucking care less about them. I wish I did sometimes, but it’s not in me.”

“But you care about me?”

“Not exactly,” the Espada admitted, and his honesty came as both a relief and a sharp disappointment. “I could. I want to. Because you’re different. You’re not stuck.”

“I don’t know what Aizen has told you about shinigami, Stark, but we’re hardly a cure to what ails you. We’re pretty set in our ways too.”

“But you move forward. Not in circles.”

“So you helped me to help yourself,” Ukitake decided, not minding that this was the case. It was a motivation that wasn’t suspicious; a reason that made sense and seemed logical. “You think I’m somehow your ticket out of here?”

“I think you could help me. I think the ones that matter listen to you.”

Ukitake looked down, wishing he wasn’t being trusted with something like this. Stark had little to lose, but he still had something to lose. Why did everything seem so difficult all of a sudden? Why couldn’t their enemies be normal hollows with little in terms of intelligence and no features resembling that of a shinigami or a human? 

“I… I’ll see what I can do.”

“And I could give you something you want just like you can give me something I want.”

Ukitake looked up sharply and frowned. “Is that what you— You think— I would never ask that of anyone.”

Stark blinked. “It’s… No, I mean… We can help your people. Lilinette and I.”

The shinigami’s eyes narrowed and the Espada looked confused but also intrigued. “That better be what you meant. I really will see what I can do.”

“For me and for—”

“Of course. For Lilinette too,” Ukitake insisted. 

“Thank you,” Stark managed, looking uncertain. He hesitated than reached a hand out, lightly snatching at white locks and watching them fall through his gloved fingers. “I can’t say I’m sorry to ask this of you, but I am thankful.”

“You’re welcome. It will take time, but I think your actions… Most of your actions will help you and her in terms of being accepted by us. Assuming you intend to continue with these current actions of non-violence and assistance.”

Stark chuckled briefly but nodded, playing with more strands of hair. Ukitake allowed it, but he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to or not. What Stark wanted from him seemed all too clear and yet too opaque for him to figure out. “And if I’m good can…Never mind.”

Ukitake blinked as Stark’s hand moved away again. “Hn?”

“I want to do things with you,” the arrancar admitted as his fingers slowly returned to Ukitake’s hair. “Just you. Not because I owe you anything, but because of what I said earlier. I do think I could care for you.”

“You don’t have to be good for that.” Stark smirked and Ukitake shook his head. “But don’t… Just because I’m seeing more than one person… We’d have to see how it goes, all right?”

The Captain was careful not to jump when Stark leaned in. He chastely kissed his cheek before whispering in his ear: “I don’t mind sharing you if I can have you.”

It felt as if the world had suddenly become very, very small. There was just the two of them and the shifting sand with a black and white landscape hovering around them. Closing in on them the longer they stood there. 

It was wrong being in a world altered and shaped by Aizen. But here was this sad, strange desert hollow wrapping both arms around him, and it was too new even if it felt right. Hollows were always hungry, and having that strange intent focused on him in a way that had very little to do with a fight went against centuries of experience. 

Even in this quiet moment, the Primera had an impressive reiatsu that seemed capable of engulfing the things around him. When it found Ukitake’s reiatsu to be up to the challenge, it worked on surrounding it. Cradling it in a deceptively soothing way. Coaxing his reiatsu into joining, and if not joining, then surrendering unconditionally. Sand and salt water mixing together forming quicksand. It proved to be too much, and he found that he was suddenly desperate for some room of his own. 

“That will take time too,” Ukitake told him before almost stumbling away. 

“How much time?”

“A lot of time and patience,” the shinigami decided. “You’ll have to work for it. It’s not… These things can’t be rushed or forced, Stark. Feelings are not instant.”

“You’re angry.”

“No, I’m…” He sighed, after yawning. “Don’t read anything into this. I’m just tired.”

Stark considered this in stony silence before nodding sympathetically. “No one ever appreciates the value of naps until battle fatigue sets in.”

Managing a sad smile, Ukitake looked away. “Even so, you will give me time?”

“What you’re asking for… How can I deny you time if that is all you require in order to try and accept me? It is only sensible.”

“But?”

Stark offered up a wistful smile. “But I wish you weren’t so sensible.”

“Do you wish I’d stay here with you?”

Stark’s gloved hands clenched into fists and he stared up at the sky above them. “No, but I do wish I could stay here.”

“He’s taken this place away from you,” Ukitake stated sadly. 

There was so little he understood about Stark. How could the Espada possibly think he’d be able to care for someone so foreign to what he knew? How could any hollow be in such an unbearable position that they would agree to accept judgment from shinigami to escape his own home?

One of the Espada’s hands opened and the palm came to rest on his shoulder. “Do you feel bad for me?”

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

First he’d rejected the curious exploration of the arrancar’s reiatsu. It had been aggressive, but it hadn’t been meant to spook him the way it had or else he wouldn’t have been able to break off contact. Then there was the fact that Ukitake’s manner of rejecting hadn’t been very kind or gentle. If anything it had been just as forceful.

To make matters worse, now the shinigami was busy pitying him while Stark was striving to be kind. The notion of anyone having to settle for pity in the hopes of kindling any other kind emotions in another was depressing. The notion of being that other person lacking in that sort of emotion was difficult to bear. 

“I need to talk to Lilinette and then we can go.”

“All right,” he replied, staring down at the sand. 

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Stark murmured without moving away. 

“I asked you to.”

“I didn’t mind. Please believe that. I don’t blame you, and I’ll try not to expect anything from you.”

Ukitake nodded woodenly as Stark kissed his cheek.

“You shouldn’t be under the misconception that you’re now obligated to feel _anything_ , Jyuushirou.”

Ukitake looked up and nodded again.

Stark seemed to be debating something before he spoke. “I can see that you are anyway. But what you’re feeling… It’s not just pity. I know you think it is, but it’s more than that.”

Ukitake found himself reaching up to squeeze Stark’s hand, and biting his lip to keep from apologizing again once the Espada finally pulled away.


	4. Chapter 4

Kyouraku gave Zaraki a small nod before noticing that Jyuushirou wasn’t with him. If he had been the type to get frustrated and show it, he would have looked keenly irritated. These multiple and unforeseen delays were wearing on his already worn nerves.

Shoving Ikkaku in the other Captain’s direction, Zaraki flash-stepped over to where Rose and Love were assisting Mastumoto in dealing with Ichimaru. The man sure got around. 

“Well?” Kyouraku drawled as if he was already bored and completely unconcerned. “Is something on your mind that you’d like to share with me?”

“He needed to talk to that arrancar guy.”

“Talking,” he repeated before laughing gruffly. “I see.”

“Yare, yare,” the Third Seat said, holding up his hands. “Talking is what Captain Ukitake said. I know very little about anything that happened or is happening.”

“Which is only surprising if you don’t know him,” another voice chimed in. Zaraki’s Fifth Seat. “How about you know nothing somewhere else, ne?”

Ikkaku nodded. 

Kyouraku waved them away and sighed heavily on his own. 

Another one of those segmented holes appeared in the sky overhead. A garganta made up of blocked segments of darkness that looked like teeth ripping into fabric, which brought back some pleasant if somewhat distracting memories. They faded away as quickly as the empty void once two familiar forms stepped out. Kaname and Ukitake. No Stark or that girl who followed him around or turned into a cero gun depending on the situation. 

After all of this ended, he really hoped they would be rid of Aizen and his two main helpers. 

“That must have been some talk,” he muttered before flash-stepping over to Unohana. 

The loss of his hat was proving to be the very least of his worries. 

“I’m taking them now,” he informed her and snatched at the hilt of his friend’s zanpakutou just as a gloved hand grabbed them. 

_Stark._ Kyouraku looked up. His expression softened minutely when he saw that the Espada was in his release form already. Still, the hollow wasn't doing a very good job of looking after Jyuushirou. That wasn’t exactly forgivable, but it wasn’t unforgivable. It wasn’t like Ukitake needed all that much looking after.

Unohana gave both of them a thoughtful look before returning to her patients. “If you are going to fight, kindly do not do so here,” she called over her shoulder. Before returning to healing, she patted Hanatarou Yamada’s shoulder. Everyone else in Fourth Division was always so jumpy.

Lieutenant Kotesu opened her mouth to say something before coloring and deciding against it. She ran to catch up to her Captain looking more like baby giraffe than anything else. 

“I can give him these,” Stark said at the same time that Kyouraku murmured: “You are not even close to being on the list of troublesome hollows I’d like to deal with right now. But you could be if you don’t let go.”

“I can give them to him.”

“Yes, but you haven’t.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat startled both of them but what surprised Kyouraku was the panel opening up in the air in front of them much like the larger garganta. The screen showed static but the voice was undeniably Aizen’s. 

The former Captain’s face eventually flickered on the screen, eying them curiously before speaking. “I’m being told this is a friend of yours, Primera.” 

At which point the static returned and the screen closed in on itself.

Looking up, Kyouraku could see Ukitake and Aizen… Well, it wasn’t talking but it wasn’t fighting. Not yet anyway. Kaname stepped in the way of Shinji and seemed to be holding his own well enough. 

“I’ll give this to him,” Stark said again, tugging the zanpakutou away. “You won’t be able to get as close as I can.”

Kyouraku grabbed his arm instead of attempting to reclaim Ukitake’s weapon. That done, he yanked sharply hauling him close and nearly off-balance. “You better or I’ll give you both of mine. Do you understand?”

“You’re strange.”

Shrugging, Kyouraku released him. “This has been a very trying day.”

He watched the Espada vanish. The screen quickly followed suit, folding in on itself, but not before he caught a glimpse of Aizen’s face. And the bastard’s smirking lips.

*

Ukitake did not feel hypnotized although he certainly felt ill. Not just because of being around Aizen although he couldn’t say being around the former Captain was a pleasant experience. And listening to him gloat in a cultured, deceptively charming way made everything that was harder to bear. 

In that respect, he had appreciated Kaname’s stoic silence even if the former Captain was clearly still harboring delusions of grandeur and superiority. They had exchanged perhaps five syllables before and after his forced exit from Hueco Mundo, a somewhat embarrassing and slightly humiliating experience. Ukitake could not remember a time he’d been caught without Sougyo no Kotowari somewhere nearby. The only blessing came from being only too aware that he himself was not at fault. However, this blessing had many suspicions and concerns attached even if very few of them pertained to Stark.

“I hope you weren’t too offended when I commented on your arrogance,” Aizen remarked in a placid, silky tone as if he didn’t have the blade of Kyouka Suigetsu inches away from Ukitake’s throat. As if the Rikujoukourou placed on him by Kaname wasn’t enough to keep him where he was.

But all of this seemed to be for show. If properly armed, they might have had a decent enough battle, but Aizen seemed to be perfectly incapable of perceiving anyone as a threat to his plans at the moment. Perhaps rightly so. Aizen’s reiatsu seemed different now. Stronger. And the Captain’s wasn’t completely up to the challenge.

“Sousuke-san, your opinion matters as about much to me as…” 

“As?”

“I honestly am having trouble thinking of anything that matters as little as your opinion.” 

“This fight has been rather drawn out, hasn’t it? Don’t worry. I will end it soon.”

Rounds of cero flashed between them and Kaname and Shinji still fighting to their left. The Vaizard’s killing intent didn’t waver nor did the blasts divert the former Captain’s focus in anyway. And then they were obscured by smoke and occasionally he could hear Shinji loudly rattling off an attack.

Although Ukitake hadn’t heard anyone say much of anything what with Aizen talking directly into his ear, he was fairly certain this was the Primera’s cero metralleta. Once the smoke cleared, he saw he wasn’t wrong although… the wolf pack was new. Later on he would need to find out just how much had he slept through. 

“Ah, Stark. You’re as slow to arrive as usual. But you come bearing gifts.”

“This is not for you.”

Aizen made a soft tsk-ing sound before sighing. “Your ingratitude is both expected and foolish.”

“Hi hi, Captain Ukitake. Naa, nice outfit. Interestin’ to see ya slumming just like the rest of us,” Gin commented once he appeared in front of Aizen. He seemed remarkably unfazed by the pistol grazing his left temple. He shooed the gun away with several long fingers and shook his head. “Naa. Watch where ya point that, Stark.”

Stark grunted. 

“Move, Gin,” was Aizen’s advice.

Ichimaru complied almost immediately but not before muttering: “Damned kids. Oh look. It’s another familiar face.” He flash-stepped off to annoy someone else. 

Aizen’s eyes flickered in his second’s retreating form before resting again on Stark and Ukitake once more.

“Now it seems we’re all here,” the shinigami who fancied himself to be both a god and a king looked very much like one as murmured contentedly before moving his zanpakutou. He lightly stroked Ukitake’s chin with one finger before eying Stark to gauge his reaction.

Stark’s stance was a bit more rigid, but he looked as battle-ready as he had only minutes ago. Whether he liked fighting or not, he was willing to do so. More than at the moment. He had probably pulled out all the stops and brought out all the tricks he had that corresponded directly to his resurrección.

This seemed readily apparent enough, but most of Ukitake’s thoughts felt very muddled. He sensed that it had something with Aizen but not his abilities, which seemed slightly distressing, and he was trying to piece together why that was. 

To some degree, he wouldn’t have been able to tell but he didn’t feel as if he’d lost touch with any aspect of reality. He hadn’t even been made to study Aizen’s zanpakutou. He just felt exhausted. Drained. Maybe this wasn’t exactly Rikujoukourou but something similar of a higher number? He still couldn’t believe Aizen’s reiatsu could actively cripple his own, but no matter what other reasons Ukitake tried to come to, that seemed to be the only one that made sense in spite of being a completely illogical conclusion to reach. 

“Why would that matter, Aizen-san?” Stark wanted to know. “That’s not your goal any more than he is.”

Clearly even a high-ranking Espada did nothing to trouble him. Aizen stood there looking pretty happy with the current situation. The wolves surrounding them registered by their impact and presence seemed to about as significant to him as the arrival of some fruit flies.

“Now that might be subject for debate. Ukitake, for all his illnesses, is quite a threat. I can’t imagine why you yourself are focusing so completely on him, but then… Wolves and coyotes have that tendency, don’t they? Similar in nature to a dog with a bone, I should think.”

“Leave it alone,” Stark testily objected. 

“If you like,” Aizen kindly offered, looking nonplused by Stark’s tone. “But if you think I was unaware of your actions, Primera, you will have to think again. I had a feeling our mutual friend would end up needing some help in arriving here in a timely manner once you took him out of harm’s way.” 

He waved a hand when Stark’s frown intensified. But like Kyouraku the Espada didn’t seem to be one for getting too bent out of shape even when provoked. “All for noble reasons, I’m sure. But imagine my astonishment when he failed to arrive here at all for hours on end.”

“How can this concern you? Why would you even want me here?”

Aizen shook his head. “Distaste for one’s maker is rather cliché. I had such high hopes for you, Stark.”

“You want to cut some kind of deal for him,” Stark muttered, completely ignoring Aizen’s observations. “So do it. Make me an offer and then let me sleep on it.”

“Be quiet and think. Look at your new playmates. Your allies, if one can call them that. Vaizards, the few Espada managed to be of any use to me and survive by shirking both role and purpose… The Thirteen Captains and all of their foot soldiers… Everyone is here.”

“This is boring,” Lilinette complained, and Stark seemed inclined to agree. But Ukitake gave this some thought, and glanced over at Shinji. Yes, a lot of them were there. A lot of people he never expected to see, and yet… Foggy as his mind was, he could easily come up with four names of former shinigami and the name of one Quincy whose spiritual pressure was absent from the Soul Society replica of Karakura Town.

“No,” Ukitake wearily managed even as he struggled unsuccessfully to break out of the Kidou. 

“Hm?”

“Not everyone is here.” And suddenly his hoarse tone was being broadcasted throughout fake Karakura Town. Broadcasting via garganta... Was that really something Aizen knew how to do?

“You knew that,” the Captain added and Aizen closed his eyes in appreciation before nodding. “That’s important to you.” 

“Hm.” Aizen’s smile gave little away and yet it gave nearly everything away. “What else?” As if this was all a lecture or some sort of Zen koan Ukitake had been assigned to decipher.

“You said you wanted a vacant throne. This one isn’t vacant.”

“No, it’s not.”

“And your reiatsu is wrong. Or would be wrong. If you were Aizen. But you’re not him.”

Aizen who wasn’t Aizen at all laughed and patted his cheek. “Very good.” 

“…I should have known,” Stark commented with a sigh before eying the other man thoughtfully. “I really hate fighting.”

Nearly everyone else who could stand seemed to be moving in their direction in a hurry. The wolves scattered, disappearing in small bursts as Shinji dealt Kaname another blow followed by a blinding red cero and then ducked past him.

“Who is he then?” the Vaizard demanded even as he examined the Kidou binding. 

Ukitake shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Stark looked down as his guns before looking up again. “No one important.” 

“And yet far more important than you.”

In the distance and in the quiet that seemed to last even as everyone began piecing things together, Ukitake could hear something that sounded very much like Mayuri cursing loudly and demanding a garganta. Someone else must have been cursing him right back.

“It might be that I owe you one after all, Stark,” the shinigami or Espada or hollow murmured. “Or, at any rate, your libido. You were never fit for your ranking. If time permitted I would show you why. Are you confused?” 

Stark fired off a warning shot. 

“Jealous then? No, perhaps not.” 

Stark stumbled a bit when the hilt of Ichimaru’s sword slammed into his back. “Ya couldn’t wait five more minutes? Ya couldn’t let ‘em think ya was holding back?” 

“Silence.”

Ichimaru snorted before moving away. “Sou. Method actin’. Well I’m leavin’. Ya do what ya please.”

Kaname was already making his own garganta, and both of them disappeared even as Not-Aizen spoke again.

“Bind, Murciélago.” 

Black rain fell around them, dissolving his illusionary form and making short of work of the rods of light holding Ukitake in place.

“Fuck,” Shinji murmured. He grabbed at the shinigami’s hand and hauled him away as the torrent of raw, brutal spiritual energy poured onto them and the shinigami able to move quick enough were still flocking to the area. Their hands were all resting on their weapons, but it seemed that none of them could think of a single thing to do until the pressure slowly began to decrease.

The reiatsu rain continued to fall, droplets of spiritual pressure spiked with killing intent. Ukitake wrestled out of the Vaizard’s grip, and headed back towards it.

“Hey! You can’t seriously want to go back over there.”

“Stark’s still standing over there,” Ukitake said, pulling away. 

“Now’s not the time to care about—”

“And he has my zanpakutou.”

“So he does,” Shinji noticed, grimacing with his large mouth as he finally let go. “Well, good luck.”

“Thank you,” Ukitake murmured, hoping they’d have more time to catch up later. For the time being, he focused on flash-stepping over to Stark. He arrived at the arrancar’s side just as the rain stopped. 

Around that time, bat-like wings unfurled revealing another arrancar. This one was horned with long fingernails and a triangular face. It was armed with a spiky javelin. A weapon he quickly used on Stark, driving it straight through the hole in his sternum even as the Espada shoved Ukitake away from him. 

Ukitake grabbed his zanpakutou and winced when he turned around to see the javelin was still through the hollow hole, pining Stark there in the air.

“What… Fuck, what was that for?” Stark demanded in a raspy tone. 

The Espada said nothing. Like a grim executioner, he summoned up another energy spear. This one pierced through Stark’s hand and his number tattoo forcing him to drop one of his guns. Lilinette began howling and then screaming at him.

No one moved. Whether it was because they didn’t know what to do or because they didn’t see the point in interfering with a fight between two Espada hardly mattered. It felt wrong despite the fact that it made perfect sense. 

Ukitake wanted to say something… No, _anything_ comforting or reassuring or protective in even a small way for Stark and Lilinette’s sake, but understanding the urgency of the situation, he prepared his shikai instead. Under his breath, he chanted the words.

“A reminder,” the creature stated flatly. This other Espada’s face remaining blank in spite of the marking on his face that seemed to imitate tears. “That is all. Cero Oscuras.”

“Sougyo no Kotowari.” Ukitake felt his hands trembling violently as the energy traveled through his left sword down into the five dangling charms. The shaking was even worse as he shot that energy back at the Espada with his right blade.

The energy zoomed at the arrancar who held out one hand and caught the cero with his reiatsu. It fell through his fingers like so much black oily water. “You were worth waiting for,” it said. 

“Who are you?”

“Cuarto Espada. Ulquiorra Cifer.”

“You… You did this to your own kind?”

“Aizen is still very much around, Captain Ukitake. My orders are my orders.”

“Why?”

“I believe you know why,” Ulquiorra murmured, spreading its—his-- wings wide and tilting his head as black, empty segments of space appeared behind him. He stepped in, expression remaining bored and neutral even as the sky began to close again.

“If there was more time… The things I would show you,” was the last thing he said.

And for awhile it was over.


	5. Chapter 5

Kyouraku found Ukitake some time later, sitting listlessly on the floor next to an examination table while Stark’s hand was first healed, and then bandaged up by Yamada. As usual the Fourth Division healer had been nervous and kept chattering endlessly about nothing of importance. Lilinette was on the table as well and she kept swinging her legs back and forth, accidentally kicking the well-meaning skittish shinigami from time to time. Well, at least she was entertaining.

Once that was over, Stark took, what he probably believed to be, a much needed nap and Ukitake held his uninjured hand until he started snoring lightly. Then he just watched Stark while Lilinette went off in search of food, and Kyouraku decided he’d had about enough of this, and sat down next to his friend.

Once everything had gone strangely wrong or at least off, Mayuri had hit Grimmjow upside the head with his zanpakutou for not giving him the garganta he’d wanted. Then the Captain of the Twelfth Division started fuming, but he’d taken a break long enough to point out what fools they all had been. As well as how obvious everything had become, and how he’d have had the time to deal with anything sooner if he hadn’t been sent to Hueco Mundo in the first place. 

Nemu was the one who, once she was safely out of range of her _father’s_ fists, calmly explained that Aizen couldn’t have cared less about fighting them. He’d just wanted to keep them busy so he could deal with Urahara, one of the few people not present at that battle. Unohana along with several others had been brought to the area the former Captain had been protecting They’d found everyone else there in serious or critical condition with the sole exception of Urahara. _Everyone else_ included Isshin Kurosaki who was already at home -- thanks to the intervention of Ryuuken Uryuu -- concussed and no doubt spinning yarns about falling out of a tree while trying to get crabapples to make a crabapple pie. 

Back in Soul Society, particularly in the Fourth Division’s barracks, the injured or critically wounded were, of course, taking things less likely. Yama-ji was still in some sort of coma. Many of the others –lieutenants and other lower-ranking officers-- were recovering from wounds in a more natural way since Fourth Division was temporarily out of the necessary energy to do much for them. Lisa had stopped by briefly, only to see what sort of shape Ukitake was. Like Ise, she had little kindness to offer her actual Captain.

It wasn’t all bad. The Vaizards and three remaining Espada were being given some sort of probationary status. They’d either prove themselves somehow and gain acceptance or not. 

Still, it was surreal and disconcerting to look over at Matsumoto and find her engaged in a somewhat animated discussion with the Tres Espada. Kyouraku did a better job of concealing his surprise, at least, than Hitsugaya who seemed to either be expressing his disgust or having a seizure a few beds away.

The Espada needed somewhere to stay, obviously, but Shinji’s group seemed hardly interested in anything outside of –and here only Kensei Muguruma and Hiyori Sarugaki had been vocal—some kind of visitation rights. 

The real town was back where it belonged and the fake town had gradually dissolved back into Soul Society. Urahara was probably in Hueco Mundo or Aizen had found a new stomping ground. Kyouraku only hoped it was a bit colder and no one in it would find Ukitake interesting at all.

He felt bad for Urahara though. Not a single one of them had thought of trying to see about helping him. Hell, when was the last time they talked about him let alone to him? 

Still, they could get the man back assuming the Kurosaki kid hadn’t already taken care of that particular problem. After being denied his request to assist with real Karakura Town in any way then being informed that there were no immediate plans to deal with Aizen,  
Ichigo had all but stormed out of Soul Society. The teenager couldn’t seem to accept any sort of defeat for long, and felt he owed Urahara a lot, particularly when very few of the Gotei Thirteen seemed to care much about Urahara missing simply because, well, Urahara was missing. 

Privately, Kyouraku doubted many of those who had gone with Kurosaki cared one way or the other. He had left followed by a rather strange and motley entourage made up of more people than anyone else might have expected. Rukia Kuchiki and Lieutenant Renji Abarai were obviously going to follow him to the ends of the earth. 

Yoruichi Shihouin had been told she needed to stay still in order to recover completely, but instead had yanked an IV out of her arm and refused to do anything sensible. Soi Fon, refusing to be out done, had insisted she was going with, which had lead to several walls in the inner city being trashed once Shinji mentioned Soi Fon having made some kind of deal with Hachi.

In the end, a little girl with her arm in a sling and one eye covered with a patch used a cannon on them while Former Kidou Corps Captain Tsukabishi sternly explained that he’d had just about enough of both of them. An odd point to make seeing as this was his first time seeing Soi Fon in over a hundred years. He’d gone with to keep the peace thankfully taking both of the children from his store with him. Kyouraku had little interest in watching Ukitake fret over both of them for days on end.

And Grimmjow, who perpetually seemed to be about as interested in being helpful as having another hole drilled through his chest, went with them too.

“I’m not going if a whole circus troupe is going,” was Shinji’s decision. Hiyori was still yelling at him for being a cowardly wuss even though she hadn’t expressed any interest in the situation at all. 

Kurosaki’s friend, that girl named Orihime Inoue, had declined to go with her friends, but Chad and the other Uryuu had been quick to agree to follow him. The girl was spending her time divided between helping people and starring up at the patch of sky where Uliquiorra’s garganta had appeared. 

Mayuri had observed that he didn’t care much in respect to Urahara being of any worth as a colleague or person, but he was a scientist and decidedly possessing of greater intelligence than the “plebeians” he found himself contending with. He’d either gone with Kurosaki or gone back to his lab to wait to see what others would do while distracting himself with experiments and dissections. Kyouraku thought the lab sounded more likely. 

Either way, it hardly mattered to him. He just cared about the troubled look on Ukitake’s face, and the guilt he felt-- even all these years later. Even knowing he could not have possibly known the truth-- about being one of many witnesses that had gotten Urahara exiled in the first place.

“Hey there, hero.”

“I’m not a hero. I wouldn’t say I was much of anything.”

Kyouraku elbowed him in the side, and was relieved to discover that, the next time he looked up, Ise was hovering over them. She shook her head when he gave her a questioning look. He really should have considered buying a second straw hat. He’d have to go into the human world to get another one.

“Who isn’t a hero?” she asked.

“Casanova’s denying his own charm. Don’t be modest,” he murmured soothingly to his friend. “I’ve heard all about your skillful means of negotiation from Nanao-chan during your absence.”

Ise made a loud gasping sound of disapproval before scowling. “I made no such remark.”

Ukitake appeared to be torn between puzzlement, amusement ,and moping some more. “Did he sustain a sizable concussion in the addition to everything else?”

“I believe he is misleading you into thinking that I believed your stay in Hueco Mundo involved…” The Lieutenant trailed off, thoughtfully lowering her face in order to glance over the rims of her glasses at the Espada. “How should I put this…”

“Taking one for the team.”

Sighing gently, Ukitake shook his head as Kyouraku draped an arm around his shoulder. “Ah, my mistake. I see he’s recovered nicely.”

Ise managed a thin but sincere smile. She had a soft spot for Jyuushirou if not for her own dashing Captain. “Yes, and now I will turn over the rest of his healing process to you.”

“I appreciate that,” Ukitake told her. She nodded and left them, which was probably best before Kyouraku wasn’t sure he felt all that much like behaving himself. Although… Stark was right there lying on the table with a hand across his eyes. Maybe he wouldn’t notice.

Doing his level best to keep it tame, Kyouraku brushed his fingers over Ukitake’s cheek and nuzzled his neck. “How about you stay closer to home next time we have an adventure?”

The other Captain smiled gently, seeming to relax once he was receiving some familiar and needed affection. “How about I stay in bed next time?” 

“Sounds good to me,” Stark and Kyouraku said at the same time. 

Stark raised his gloved hand, staring over at them without moving or sitting up. Kyouraku’s mouth set into a straight line as he refused to pout over the interruption. 

As they glared at one another, Ukitake laughed heartily. At least some good was going to come out of having to deal with the Espada constantly being around. 

“Neither one of you can possibly think what happened today merits victory sex.”

“We’re alive,” Kyouraku reasoned.

“I’ve yet to have sex with you,” Stark observed.

“Not good enough,” Ukitake murmured before looking away.

“I think we’re doing all right,” Kyouraku objected, bumping their shoulders together.

“Hn.”

“If you’re mad at me, I could go,” Stark offered. 

Eying Stark strangely, the weary shinigami shook his head. 

“I should have known when the change happened,” Stark continued, attempting to take the brunt of the blame. A nice gesture, but one that wasn’t going to work. “I shouldn’t have taken you away from the battle.”

“I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t.”

In an effort to get their attention, Kyouraku cleared his throat. “Jyuushirou’s right. There's no point regretting what’s happened.”

“The ruse succeeded because none of us Espada were near enough to Aizen to notice. Because with everything else going on—”

Kyouraku shrugged. “If things had gone differently, do you think you would be accepted here now?”

Stark rubbed his temples and sat up. “Guess not,” he mumbled.

“The blame is not solely yours,” Jyuushirou assured him. “It is ours too. We aren’t learning quick enough or fast enough. Maybe we would have known if… Well, if we’d all been stronger.” 

Kyouraku studied his friend carefully, ignoring the hollow’s concerns for the time being. “You’re thinking of Yama-ji.”

Ukitake nodded before shaking his head. “I’m thinking if we’d all fought better, he wouldn’t have had to make up for us. Or, at least, not so often.”

“He’ll recover.”

“He’d better.”

“He will,” Kyouraku insisted. “But for now, let’s leave Stark to his nap and go for a walk, ne?”

Ukitake snorted before glancing over at the Espada who shrugged, lying back down and eying the ceiling. It was hard to interpret his actions, but then they had only recently been required to put any effort into understanding any of the arrancar. “What you do is up to you. Just come back. Eventually.”

Standing up, Kyouraku watched as Ukitake patted Stark’s arm, hesitating only for a second before kissing his cheek. It wasn’t that he minded observing such a thing or had any reason to think poorly of Stark at the moment, but the Eighth Division Captain thought it was strange that he found witnessing such a scene to be mildly amusing and not entirely unappealing. 

Just the same, he rolled his eyes and snatched at Ukitake’s arm. “Yes, a walk would be excellent. You could use the fresh air.” 

Once outside and further away from other shinigami, Ukitake smirked at him and took his hand back. “You seem the same as ever.”

“Shouldn’t that please you, what with the way everything is changing?”

“I am pleased. Don’t I look it?”

Kyouraku smiled even thought he thought that, if anything, Ukitake merely looked tired. “Somewhat. You’ll be moody again soon enough without the proper distraction.”

His lips curved up into a matching smile. “But a walk will prevent that?”

“I had something else in mind.”

“You want me to read you _Sougyou no Okotowari_?”

Kyouraku sighed and wrapped an arm around Ukitake’s neck, hauling him closer. “Something more _adult_ in mind, handsome.”

“So you missed me then.”

“Every time you’re away from me, I notice and miss you,” the other Captain murmured, tightening his grip and kissing Ukitake’s white hair. “How much is determined by the length of your departure.”

“But you manage.”

“Hm. Perhaps it is simply a result of age. I’m too senile to be too upset when my beloved person deserts me.”

“You’re too lucid to be so forgetful. I suspect it’s merely a coping mechanism,” Ukitake decided before wrestling free and tugging Kyouraku into a kiss. “I missed you too.”

After the kiss, he pressed their foreheads together and smiled. “Good. Then. We’ll do adult things now, you and I?”

“Many adult things.”

Both Captains were content to return to a more private location. Kyouraku felt some bit of his own tension ease up once he got Ukitake out of the uniform he’d been wearing. Kisses led to more kisses and amusing looks, but very little in terms of talking. Centuries had, of course, made words into entertaining and pleasant additions to the time they spent together rather than necessities. 

It was only when he found himself lying back and Jyuushirou moving down, that he pulled his friend up and shook his head. “Let me.” 

Ukitake seemed tempted to complain but didn’t. They kissed and switched places. Ukitake’s hands wandered through his hair and over his back as Kyouraku put his mouth to better use. Licking and sucking until he got what he wanted as some loud moans besides. 

They took turns with the other intimate acts that followed, as familiar with each other’s bodies as they were their own. Every once in awhile one of them said something ridiculously sentimental or flowery. How much they’d wished they’d seen the other after getting injured. How glad they were that the other was all right. Obvious, sweet shared bits of nonsense. As always, Kyouraku blamed these neurotic tendencies on being constantly in the company of someone who seemed to mainly subsist on ohagi. 

Facing one another for the third time, Kyouraku replaced his fingers with his length, pushing forward and parting his lips to make room for Ukitake’s tongue. At this inconvenient time, he felt like saying far too much, but it made more sense to use his teeth to bit gently at Ukitake’s lower lips before moving to his throat and neck. Eventually when he found himself resting his head against Ukitake’s shoulder and thrusting once more, he stated the obvious. It was embarrassing, really. It wasn’t weakness, but it was odd to love someone for so long. He’d never imagined knowing someone so well or so completely, or cherishing the feeling of it so readily and so often. 

They came around the same time, and lay there until it became somewhat uncomfortable. They parted in a sticky fashion, Kyouraku sighed happily. “Well. That takes care of my needs for the next twenty minutes or less.”

Ukitake just chuckled as he worked to catch his breath.

Propping himself up on one elbow, Kyouraku used his other hand to wrap some of Ukitake’s hair around his knuckles. He inhaled gently, kissing a few strands before sprawling out on their futon. “Seeing as I did the most work, you can take care of the clean-up, right? For now?” Stark would probably show up on his doorstep looking like a lost, sleep-deprived baby goose if Ukitake didn’t at least go back to check up on him. 

“You’re ridiculous,” the other shinigami insisted, trailing kisses over Kyouraku’s brow until his hair was released. He didn’t go far though, only moving to the other room to get a bowl and some cloths so they could clean up. “I love you too.”


	6. Chapter 6

The decision to send others after Aizen, and, in a round about way, Ichigo Kurosaki wasn’t too surprising. Zaraki had agreed to head up the team, bored after so many days of waiting. Shinji was going too, and several other lower-ranking shinigami anxious to prove themselves after that last dismal defeat. 

Because of that, their departure hinged on a bit more proper training, and as a result, Ukitake found himself sharing Zaraki’s bed regularly. The training left Zaraki itching for a real fight, and since none of those were to be found, the somewhat demonic Captain of the Eleventh Division was willing to settle on fucking the need right out of his system.

After noticing that his approach on night three left Ukitake more eager for conversation and the occasional time-out than anything else, Zaraki had eventually dragged him to an onsen and let him soak up some steam before dragging him back to his quarters on night four. It hadn’t been exactly cave-man style, but then it hadn’t been very dignified. Something that bothered his men and doubtlessly all of the Eleventh Division more than it ever seemed to bother Zaraki. He had provided more than enough proof of his prowess and manliness already, and no one was stupid enough to need more proof. Ukitake just didn’t care, which was not to say that he enjoyed making a spectacle of himself, but he was too old to concern himself with what other shinigami thought. 

Back in bed, the older Captain tilted his head back, smiling with his eyes shut as a brush began gliding through his hair. 

“Hmm. What a pleasant change,” Ukitake noted readily enough. “I didn’t realize you were inclined towards pampering your partners.”

“Never asked.”

“And I’d forgotten how much you enjoyed this sort of thing.”

Zaraki lightly rapped the side of his head with the flat side of the brush in his hand. “Ought to pay more attention.”

“Were you a hair stylist in another life?”

“Anyone else asked me a question like that, and I’d shorten their current one quite a bit.”

“But since it’s me?”

“Since it’s you…” Ukitake groaned as teeth sank into his collarbone, relaxing all the more when Zaraki licked at his neck. “Waste of my time to try, but I’ll just make you behave.”

“You’d be bored if I behaved.”

“Hard to say.” 

After that a companionable silence stretched out before them. Zaraki’s other hand wandered over Ukitake’s bare chest, roughly wandering over his hardened nipples and biting some more. The hand stayed well above his abdomen though and when he tried to move up to make Zaraki’s fingers move further down, the arm tightened around him like a steel bar. 

“I want more,” Ukitake murmured as the fingers continued lightly gliding over areas that were not nearly as far south as it would have hoped. He could feel himself hardening, but only just beginning to. Since there was little that he could do, he settled for carding fingers through Zaraki’s thick mane of hair that, for once, fell down along his shoulders and back instead of being slicked up into spikes. 

“Fucking ridiculous.”

“Hn?”

“How much I want you. How often I want you.”

“No one else ever says that to me.”

“Because they’re stupid.”

Sighing a bit, Ukitake opened his eyes and eyed Zaraki sternly as he craned his neck back. “Move your hand lower.”

“I’m still working on your hair,” Zaraki insisted, fingers massaging his chest again, tweaking and caressing at his skin. He did, however, hoist Ukitake onto his lap, growling a little when the older Captain’s ass met his thick erection. “You‘ll have to wait.”

“Can you?” Ukitake asked in a teasing tone, letting the fingers of one hand curl over one of Zaraki’s biceps. He couldn’t mind to grind back against him though, the free arm was back to pinning him in place. “You seem to want me very much.”

“I do, but I’m taking my time. Let’s try slow for a change.”

Ukitake chuckled. “You think you know a guy.”

“I have a lot of hidden depths.”

“Like hair dressing.”

“Like you. Fucking evil thing that you are.”

“Now that’s just cruel.”

“I’ll treat you to worse insults if you don’t keep still.” His nails began raking over Ukitake’s thighs slowly, spreading his legs but doing nothing about his erection. And Zaraki’s rough kisses were somewhat rare and fleeting. “It won’t change what I do though.”

“Why can’t you just put your other hand to some good…ngh…use?”

“Fucking bossy too.” 

“Why do you put up with me?”

Zaraki pulled him up, away from his lap and both hands busied themselves with working his long locks into a braid. “I got seduced by you. Could have happened to anyone.”

“By me?”

“Of course. Someone like me sees a pretty thing like you… He’s bound to be curious.”

“Hmm. You weren’t so open-minded or entranced when I was beating you.”

“Ya didn’t even pull out a weapon. Man’s got his pride, asshole.”

“You’ve grown much stronger.”

“Nothing about you’s changed.”

“Some things have.”

“Mm. Nothing I can’t handle then.” And finally the braid was done and one of Zaraki’s hands wrapped around his cock and tugged. This was followed by some stroking and biting. 

“Thank goodness.”

Zaraki chuckled loudly before sighing. “All I ever hear about is how you’re so fragile. The fuckers. Look at you.”

“Mm.”

“And it’s fucking ridiculous what you do to me.”

“Let me do something about it.”

“Ain’t no rush.”

“There could be.”

“No. I’m keeping ya here til I’m satisfied and I’m in no rush to be done with ya.” Ukitake opened his mouth to make a reply, but Zaraki deftly stuck three fingers in. “Suck.”

As he did so, Zaraki’s tongue moved over his spine and he shuddered, taking the digits in deeper. “Bossy but a good listener,” he murmured before nuzzling at his side and then nibbling his way back up his chest. “Such a good boy.” While still pressing forward and then maneuvering his larger body somewhat, Zaraki licked and grazed the tip of his cock with his teeth before repeating the slow languid licking with his tongue moving up from Ukitake’s ass to his neck. “Impatient, but good.”

Groaning, Ukitake leaned forward, thrusting lightly into Zaraki’s hand before being tugged backwards. A warm thumb brushed over his jaw, and he licked gently at the fingers in his mouth before they were pulled out. 

“Wouldn’t think much about me if I was like your other two, right?”

Ukitake managed to shake his head.

“Wouldn’t think much of me if I didn’t get ya ready, ne?”

Still somewhat dazed, Ukitake repeated the motion. 

Zaraki chuckled, licking some more and Ukitake squirmed desperate for more. For anything, particularly those fingers he’d sucked on with such enthusiasm. Or the overly generous cock he wanted inside of him. “You’re so damned easy. Hard as a rock now and just about as clever, but then… So am I. What to do, what to do.”

“Me, I’d think.”

“There ya go again. Telling me what to do.”

“You like it.”

“I do,” Zaraki agreed, stroking faster but moving his arm higher to hold Ukitake closer. He worked one finger in before adding the other two. “Fuck. I remember when I thought I could do you one time and then be done.”

“Ngh."

“You made me work so fucking hard for that one time.”

“Stop talking,” Ukitake whispered in a hoarse tone.

Zaraki just laughed, wriggling his fingers and fisting Ukitake’s cock. “Oh yeah?” 

“I need the rest of you.”

The fingers disappeared suddenly. Ukitake bit back a dissatisfied groan and tried to move back once he felt the head of Zaraki’s length pressing against his cheeks.

“Fuck, darlin.’ Seems like you want one part of me more than most.”

“Then give me it.”

“Ain’t you got any manners?”

Feeling his cheeks reddening in maddeningly foreign way, Ukitake begged. “Please.”

“Say it again?”

“Please. I want— I need—”

“Yare, yare. Anything for you. But don’t you dare come yet.”

Ukitake made suitable sounds of satisfaction that were followed by grunts that echoed his sentiments from the other Captain. And then he was grinding back and Zaraki was pushing forward, hand still pumping his cock. Eventually their lips met and they kissed like they were in the middle of a sparring match, tongues fighting for dominance before striking up a truce and wandering around instead.

“Right. Now you can.”

And they both did. 

Ukitake was still catching his breath when he found himself turned upside down, shoulders and upper back pressing against the mattress beneath them as Zaraki’s tongue worked to clean him up. The larger Captain’s hands rested on his ankles and then spread them apart.

“Kami-sama…”

“Told ya before. I ain’t done with you,” the other Captain pointed out and then he was biting at Ukitake’s thighs before his large tongue was all over his ass. 

The noises he’d made before were nothing compared to the somewhat embarrassingly loud and desperate noises he made as Zaraki continued. Squirming a bit, he sighed bonelessly when the motions only intensified. Eventually the other shinigami’s mouth wrapped around his cock and his back came to rest against the mattress instead of his head. 

Teeth grazed his cock again, longer this time and moving over his length before Zaraki concentrated only on sucking. He moved his hands in the direction of Zaraki’s cock, but they were batted away and Zaraki only sucked that much harder, sliding his tongue up and down roughly ever other second or so.

He found himself coming again and lying there, nervous and willing and feeling strangely younger than he had in awhile as Zaraki swallowed greedily. 

Wiping at his mouth, the larger Captain leered down, warm hands wandering over Ukitake’s sides. “I see why ya don’t give me or those others candy. What’s the point when we’ve got you around.”

Ukitake gasped when he felt fingers sliding back over his ass and shook his head, pushing Zaraki back after letting his tongue wander over his chest for a bit. He was in need of a brief moment’s pause, but he wasn’t completely uninterested. 

“How about… A break? I’m old,” he suggested apologetically.

“Ya ain’t fucking old.”

“I am.”

Zaraki scowled a bit, letting the backs of his fingers brush over Ukitake’s legs before kissing one of his thighs. “One more time.”

Ukitake sighed, resting a hand over his eyes and laughing as Zaraki licked at the side of his face until he moved the hand away. “You… I’m going to hate you tomorrow.”

“Just don’t hate me right now.”

They smiled at one another for a moment before Ukitake shook his head and brushed his knuckles over the scar on Zaraki’s cheek. “Mm. How could I hate you right now?”

Zaraki hovered over him for a moment before moving back and pulling him up too. They kissed again and Ukitake caught his breath while he rested his head against Zaraki’s shoulder. 

A few seconds later and Zaraki began prodding his shoulder. “Maa, I didn’t say you could sleep.”

Ukitake blinked before looking up. “Hn? I wasn’t sleeping…”

“Fucking ridiculous,” Zaraki murmured fondly. “One more time, I said. I’m getting one more time.”

Yawning hugely Ukitake chuckled and put his arms around Zarak’s neck. “Mm. Forgive me for saying so,” he suggested. “But I really wish Yachiru had refrained from teaching you how to count.”

Zaraki snorted. “Cute. So?”

Smiling, the older Captain nodded. “One more time.”

“So flexible.”

“For your sake, I try.”

“Mighty big of you, old man,” Zaraki teased before coming to some sort of decision. Then he added: “Wanna compromise, sweet thing? You can call the shots.”

Tilting his head, Ukitake smirked his agreement. “All right.” His imagination, thankfully, did not need much time to steer him in several right directions. “I want to ride you,” he continued, settling on the first of them. “Is that acceptable?”

“Fuck yes.”

The additional “one time” seemed to do the trick for both of them, and Ukitake was pleased to find himself dozing quietly in Zaraki’s arms afterwards. The larger shinigami wasn’t exactly the sweetest, most thoughtful creature around, but he did have his moments. 

“Ya gonna miss me?” The younger Captain asked apropos of nothing. “I know I gotta whip those fuckheads into shape and you got your other little friends, but it might be awhile.”

Ukitake looked up and smiled quietly. “I’ll miss you. I don’t think my ass will, but I will.”

Never one to pass up an opportunity, Zaraki unceremoniously groped him. “Oh, it’ll miss me.”

“Given some time to recover,” Ukitake wryly commented.

“Could be,” Zaraki said. “You gonna wish me luck?”

“You have Ikkaku,” Ukitake reminded him, amusement evident in his tone. “He’ll dance you up some when you run out.”

“Yeah right. He’s a bald trouble magnet,” Zaraki pointed out, kissing Ukitake’s temple and then his hair. “You fucking smell so damned good all the time. If I wanted luck, I’d take you with. You wish they’d asked you to go?”

Ukitake shook his head.

“Yeah. Damn shame is all,” Zaraki mumbled, tugging lightly on Ukitake’s braid like some errant schoolboy. “You and your view on fighting, I mean.”

“We fight for different reasons.”

“You don’t seem to think less of me for mine.”

“Who is to say if we choose our paths or our paths choose us,” Ukitake murmured quietly. “I don’t think your reasons are worse. I just don’t think they would work for me.”

“Maybe not.”

Ukitake’s eyes closed before slipping open again so he could look up and study the younger shinigami thoughtfully. “Hmm. What brought you around?”

“Eh?”

“You don’t give most people the time of day if they won’t shed some blood for you. What made you decide it was all right that I wasn’t like that?”

“You ain’t like that.”

“True, but—” He rolled his eyes gently when Zaraki put a hand over his mouth. 

“Let me finish then. You ain’t most people.” 

Ukitake offered up a very muffled apology.

Zaraki nodded and shrugged as he exhaled sharply. “You might have a point about reasons and lack of choices. I value my way more than yours, and don’t shake your head because it’s true. But that don’t mean I’d put your way down. Or let anyone else say much about it.”

Slowly the hand moved off of his mouth and Ukitake nodded too. “That’s kind of you.”

Zaraki’s jaw clenched slightly and then: “Fuck kind. It’s the damned truth. I’m disrespectful cuz it’s in my nature. Some people deserve it. Hell, some people won’t work to prove that they’re worth more than shit. That ain’t you either.” 

“Ah.”

“And I know you. And you know… Things... This thing,” and here he trailed off before motioning between them. “Well, it changes things.”

Ukitake smiled gently before curling up against Zaraki’s shoulder. “I know.”

Scowling audibly, Zaraki rearranged the pillows and threw some blankets over them. “Smug fucker,” he murmured before tugging Ukitake closer and putting both arms around him. “Now pipe down so I can get some sleep.”


	7. Chapter 7

The first time he’d been sick in Stark’s presence was a week after Zaraki had left. He hadn’t been doing anything too strenuous, but after being in good health for about a month, it was only to be expected. He doubled over, coughing and grimacing as the Espada knelt next to him, watching and not knowing what to do, until Hanatarou Yamada came running across the training grounds to tend to him. 

He spent that day in bed and Stark read to him from one of the books Ichigo Kurosaki had given him several months ago. They couldn’t make much sense of the cultural references given their shared lack of human world experience, but just having someone there was soothing. 

Whenever Ukitake nodded off, even if it was only for a few minutes before another coughing spell, he could feel Stark’s reiatsu winding gently around and over him like a cocoon. He felt guilty when he dreamt about Kyouraku and even worse when he woke up to flowers from his best friend. But only Unohana and Stark stayed, and when he started coughing, Stark kept his arms around him. It had been a long, long time since anyone else outside of Kaien had done that. 

The next day he woke up to find Stark lying on the end of his bed, and he wondered why the arrancar seemed to eager to touch him or protect him when he wasn’t paying attention. Asking about it seemed unkind, and he wasn’t sure how Stark would have felt about being touched by someone so ill so he just watched him for awhile. 

When the sickness seemed content to stay, Ukitake began quietly gathering up his things to go to Ugendou when Stark went off to the Fourth Division to ask about the sort of treatments that were to be administered to him. 

Or, more honestly, the shinigami had only attempted to pack for the trip. After awhile, he woke up to find himself lying flat on his mattress with Lilinette hovering over him. She was livid and he had to endure her yelling at him and organizing all of his scattered belongings. 

“You _stupid_ old man,” she growled out, following this sentiment up with curses that even Zaraki would have found to be inventive and imaginative. This meant Stark was upset too although he’d done a better job of hiding it. “You could kill yourself. You have to rest.”

And rest he did. In fact, he slept most of the way to his estate, and wasn’t entirely sure how Stark had even found it until, upon waking, he noticed Lieutenant Hisagi standing in the doorway and eying him intently.

While he wasn’t in uniform per se, Ukitake was relieved to see he wasn’t just wearing a yukata but a lightweight kimono and hakuma with a haori jacket. All of it was navy blue instead of black. His eyes hurt too much for him to make out the tiny detailed designs on the fabric so the older Captain stared up groggily at Ninth Division’s temporary leader instead. “My Third Seats?”

“Your hollow wasn’t too keen on them coming with.”

“He’s… Well, I suppose he is.”

“I’m not judging,” Hisagi insisted, holding up his hands. “I just wanted to make sure this was what you wanted.”

Ukitake exhaled thoughtfully. “It is and it isn’t. He’s not going to want to leave.”

“No, he’s not.”

“Thank you for showing him the way.”

“You’re welcome.” 

Hisagi lingered. Ukitake reached up and rearranged the bag of ice on his forehead before trying to think of reasons why. The younger shinigami had never been inclined to speak to him before, and the one time he offered, he had inadvertently wounded his pride. Or reminded him of a connection he’d lost.

“But?”

Rubbing fingers over scars and the blue stripe over his nose, Hisagi shrugged. “There was a time… You wanted to talk to me and I said I was busy.” 

“I remember,” Ukitake murmured when nothing else was said. He coughed sharply and pulled himself upright. “Is there something troubling you?”

Looking ashamed to be asking anything of a sick man, Hisagi shrugged again. “I was wrong. I can make time.”

“Hm. And Lieutenant Kira?”

His expression changed to one of relief and his posture straightened again even as the fingers of one hand brushed over the hilt and tsuba of Kazeshini. “I think he’d like that. He… needs direction.”

“All right. But he needs to ask.”

“When he does, you'll help?

Offering up a reassuring smile, Ukitake replied: “Of course I will. Any of the Captains would be happy to listen. We do understand, you know.” They hadn’t suffered the same exact betrayal as the two of you, but they had suffered _a_ betrayal and it had been at the hands of the same people.

Hisagi reluctantly nodded. “Yes, but it’s better if it’s someone who will listen. It’s better if that someone is you.”

“Very well.”

“Thank you.”

Ukitake closed his eyes, knowing Hisagi would leave and not minding all that much even if it did leave him alone. Well, as alone as one could be with an Espada prowling around his familial estate. 

Sometime later, he felt the right sleeve on his haori jacket being yanked, and he slowly opened his eyes.

“There’s medicine for you. Tea too,” Stark muttered, pulling the legs out on a small tray and setting it gently over Ukitake’s lap once the shinigami nodded. “You’re all right?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Beyond the obvious?” Stark asked before shaking his head. “You don’t make a lot of noise when you sleep.”

“I see.” Ukitake rolled his eyes when the arrancar made a motion for him to deal with what was there on the tray in front of him. “I will be here for quite some time, you know,” he commented before picking up the capsules and swallowing them down with warm watery ginger and honey.

The tray was moved, and when he was done with the mug, Stark took that away as well. “I’ll get you some ice.”

“Thank you,” he murmured, eyes closing. Eventually, he felt cold cubes press against his forehead. “It’s nice of you to be here, but there’s probably more enjoyable tasks to be had elsewhere.”

“Someone should be here with you.”

“I’m often here on my own.”

“No.”

Ukitake slowly opened his eyes, raising an eyebrow in amusement. “No?”

“You shouldn’t be. I won’t leave.”

Ukitake coughed quietly instead of laughing. He would have preferred to chuckle, but some things were beyond his control. No, many things were beyond his control. That Stark was proving to be one of them was a relief. “To be honest, I wouldn’t have thought of asking you to.”

The concern etched onto Stark’s features was one of the many reasons why being alone might have made both of them happier. Ukitake couldn’t help thinking of Stark’s own worries about dying quickly. Would he really want to be with someone who was sick a good portion of the time?

“Don’t talk,” the arrancar said. 

“I’ll cough either way.”

“Then…”

“It will end in time,” Ukitake promised, fairly certain that it was one he could keep. “You will get to look after me until you’ve had your fill.”

“Like everyone else?” The tone was bitter and protective, but at least it wasn’t laced with jealousy. “I don’t think so.”

“Ah, your concern is touching but you’ll only upset yourself. Don’t think so poorly of others,” Ukitake suggested. He set the bag of ice down on the tray next to the bed and let his fingers brush over Stark’s forehead. “They haven’t abandoned me, and I am not being sent here for any other reason than my own comfort.”

Stark’s jaw tightened and he looked extremely skeptical. 

“Illnesses are unpleasant things,” the Captain soothed, letting his fingers slid down over Stark’s cheek to his chin. “It’s hard for them. It’s hard for me. I suspect it will be hard for you too.”

“Why? You’re not unpleasant.”

 _You really are young, aren’t you?_ “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to make this hard for you,” Stark admitted quietly, looking away before sighing as Ukitake caressed his neck. He allowed it for a few minutes before catching Ukitake’s fingers with his own. His fingers were cold, but not unpleasantly so. Lately the Espada had abandoned his gloves, no longer caring much if anyone found the number one on his hand to be significant or not. He tended to dress like the other lower-ranking shinigami too, but at the moment he appeared to be in release form even if his guns weren’t drawn and so far Ukitake had yet to notice any spirit wolves lurking around or under his bed. 

“I find that I want to touch you all the time though,” he murmured sadly, stroking the back of Ukitake’s hand.

“You can. I won’t get you sick. Or, at least, I don’t think I will.” Considering the similarities between arrancars, Vaizards, and shinigami as well as the guests he’d had in Ugendou and how chaste their interactions had been… Well, Stark was certainly safe. 

“I didn’t think you would,” Stark insisted, and Ukitake felt oddly relieved. Maybe loneliness was catching even if his sickness wasn’t. “I just wanted to touch you.”

“Feel free,” Ukitake gently offered. “And you have in the past, Stark. Didn’t you carry me here?”

“No. He wouldn’t let me.”

“Hisagi means well.”

Stark shrugged. “I don’t take that personally. It’s not me he’s upset with.”

“That’s good of you,” Ukitake assured him. “And you’re right.”

“I know what it’s like to be…” Stark searched for a word before tightening his grip on Ukitake’s fingers and then releasing them. He shifted a bit so that he looked away from the bed and over towards the painted screens in the corner near one of the large windows. “I know what it feels like to feel the way he does.”

“Come here,” Ukitake decided, tugging Stark closer to him and putting his arms around Stark's neck. He thought it was kinder to give Stark a small bit of privacy in terms of facial expressions and instead of turning him around, the shinigami merely rested his head against his shoulder.

“Do you know… I don’t think poorly of anyone, but even so I think highly of you,” he whispered. “I don’t understand you completely yet. There are few people I do understand that well, but what I do understand, I appreciate. I like being with you.”

“I still bother you. What I am… My reiatsu…”

Ukitake’s fingers brushed over the jawbone fused to Stark’s neckline. “That’s part of not understanding you completely. That doesn’t mean I don’t want you with me.”

“So it won’t bother you if I’m here?”

Nuzzling lightly at his shoulder, Ukitake smiled to himself. “Not at all. I think I need someone here this time anyway. And apparently you’ve chased everyone else away.”

“I don’t like how they fuss over you. Like you’re broken.”

“I am.”

“No.”

“Yes. I’m always going to be sick.”

Stark ducked his head and kissed at Ukitake’s arms. “Perhaps. To me it seems like you always get better. That to me… That indicates strength. That means you’ll last.”

“It always means something will be wrong with me,” the shinigami carefully explained.

Stark barked out a somewhat vicious-sounding laugh before shaking his head. “Look at what I am. I don’t care.”

Eying him thoughtfully, Ukitake frowned. “But you think I care what you are? That I judge you?”

“I think it matters. I think it might… influence your acceptance of me.” ‘Influence’ clearly was a last minute substitute for ‘taint.’ 

“I think it doesn’t change who you are. I think I like all of you. Both parts of you.”

“I like all of you too.”

“I’ve noticed. It means a lot to me.” 

“It annoys you though.”

Ukitake blinked and tilted his head as he looked over Stark’s shoulder. “What?” he asked, turning Stark’s face towards his. “Oh. The way you follow me around all the time? I sort of enjoy that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s you. I’m getting used to you.”

Stark just grunted, tugging away lightly with his eyes trained on the floor. They were hard to read, what with the eyepiece over the left one. But his energy had changed a bit, and it had become harsher and darker. And it wasn’t lashing out so much as turning and spiraling inwards. He had a tendency to view himself unfairly. Ukitake had noticed that both from watching him on his own and watching him with Lilinette. 

Sighing quietly, he let his own spiritual pressure wash lightly and protectively over Stark’s as he kissed his cheek. Sick or not, he could manage to provide the Espada with some comfort. 

“Perhaps,” he mused aloud as he lightly worked to move some of his energy past some of Stark’s defenses, “well, it is likely that I read too much and while this won’t prove useful to you in any sort of fight… Did you know you have two charka points right where your mask and your hollow hole are?”

“Do I?” His tense posture and soft voice gave away very little.

“This is your throat chakra,” Ukitake explained, letting his fingers wander over the teeth on Stark’s jawbone. “And down here… That’s your heart chakra. One honors communication and the other honors the heart.”

“They’re no use to me,” Stark snapped. “They’re blocked. Or gone.”

“No. They’re just different. You’re not human and you’re not a shinigami.”

“So?” 

“So. Why would that difference mean you don’t have a heart when it’s clear that you do?”

Stark broke free of his grip, physical and otherwise, and got to his feet. “It’s not safe to think like that.”

Ukitake coughed quietly and curled up against the pillows behind him, not willing to pursue him. Not because it wasn’t safe, but because he didn’t want Stark to try to convince him that it should have been dangerous. “But I do.”

“And if I hurt you?” Stark growled out, turning around slowly. “What will you think then?”

“I’m old. You don’t think I’ve been hurt?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Stark cautioned.

“Then don’t,” Ukitake challenged.

His fists clenched tightly and stayed that way. “Then don’t… When I’m upset don’t do that unless you mean it then.”

“Don’t do what?”

“Try to make me feel better.”

“Then stop trying to take care of me if you won’t let me even try to do the same,” he suggested.

“I can’t help it.”

“Neither can I, and I don’t want to,” Ukitake admitted, looking about as surprised as Stark did. “We’re sort of in this together whether we meant to be or not, ne? To withhold parts of myself from you seems pointless.”

“I don’t want that,” Stark admitted. “I want to have… I want that connection to you. It feels… I like how it feels.”

Breathing out shakily, Ukitake let his reiatsu coil back around Stark’s. Not shoving, not pushing. Just mingling there with the hollow’s strange, spiritual energy, and accepting it. The arrancar looked sad and stricken, and Ukitake felt sufficiently motivated to hold out his hands to Stark. 

“Connecting on that level to someone else who isn’t part of yourself?” the shinigami asked. “Getting back what you give to another? That’s perfectly understandable.”

Stark held out for a few more seconds before moving back. More than likely he was worried that the offer would be retracted. Poor thing. But he’d learn. “It’s not something we’re allowed,” he mumbled as Ukitake hugged him.

“By who?”

“By anyone.”

Ukitake wasn’t one for cursing, but he nearly did. “Well, it’s something I’m going to give you. You give it to me in so many sweet, sneaky ways when you think I’m not looking.”

Stark’s expression eased up slightly, looking more sheepish than anything else. “About that… I couldn’t prevent it. You needed it.”

“So do you. Don’t argue. I don’t want to be forced to settle for stealth affection or watching you pine for me when you’re standing right next to me.”

Sighing gently, the arrancar shrugged defeat. “Fine. A decent portion of my affection for you will be overt.”

“Thank you. Now I want more tea and then you can sleep here with me. Since you’re so fond of naps.”

Stark’s eyes lit up and Ukitake managed a weak laugh. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. And when I’m better we’ll do something else that isn’t probably going to mean as much to you as a nap, but it’ll come close.”

“…Really?”

“Mm.”

Stark kissed his cheek and then his neck and then his cheek again.

“This is very sweet and all, but I still want tea,” Ukitake interrupted, pushing Stark away playfully before the Espada could start kissing his neck again.

Stark laughed even as he gave the shinigami a few more kisses before grumbling when Ukitake pinched his arm “Right. I’ll go get that.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s about damn time,” a third voice loudly declared as Stark picked up his tray and headed out of the room. “Honestly. You’re both such fucking morons.”

Ukitake colored when he was on his own and sighed. Kami-sama, he was never going to get used to having a talking gun around. 

The next day when he woke up, he found his arms around Stark. The Espada was in a similar position, but one of his hands was buried in Ukitake’s hair and so was his face. Despite the fact that they were overdressed, it was an improvement.


End file.
